


Weasleys' Wheezing Hearts

by Another_Dilettante



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_Dilettante/pseuds/Another_Dilettante
Summary: Title based off Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. This story is a romance involving the Weasley twins with a cousin of Oliver Wood. Romance starts with George before including both twins later on. Story takes place in an alternate world where Fred survives and Voldemort didn't cause as much destruction.





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter has no explicit content since it's more of an introduction setting the romance up, but there is explicit content in later chapters.

One of the best parts about England in Lucy’s opinion was the history, The Leaky Cauldron included. After all it was the oldest pub in London. America’s pubs weren’t half as charming, even if this one did have a hint of stale booze lurking under the mouth-watering scent of fresh bread. The constant hum of guests made the pub feel lively without being too boisterous and all the old wooden tables gave it a dated look that counted as charming and historical instead of out of touch. All in all it made for the perfect place to get a meal or drink and read. The Leaky Cauldron was the place where she could sit and feel like she belonged, unlike her cramped little flat that didn’t quite feel like home yet. 

She glanced up from her book about early magic in Britain, one of the latest bestsellers that all the bookshops pushed. She’d snagged her favorite chair at the corner table—a difficult feat on busy days. The spot gave her a view of the whole pub, which meant she could watch for him, the handsome redhead she’d first spotted three weeks ago. She’d never considered herself a fan of redheads before. But that was before she heard him laugh. That laugh was like a siren’s song that snagged her curiosity and refused to let go. 

Her gaze raked the room for the fourth time. He was late today and the seats were filling up. Soon only bar seating would be left, which would put him clear on the other side of the room from her.

She grabbed her drink, wishing she had the guts to approach him instead of watching him like a total creep. Sure, she’d gone through a tough break up four months ago. It’d played a part in her leaving for an imagined grand new life. Why not come to England to chase career opportunities and visit her extended family she rarely got to see? She’d always wanted an adventure. Unfortunately, she was beginning to think she wasn’t cut out for an adventure, not unless anyone considered sitting around in a pub reading a book multiple times a week an adventure. She was still working on the new friends part, and she didn’t want to annoy her favorite cousin too much. Oliver Wood’s social life was busy enough without her. Either way, she didn’t have a good excuse for why she sat around fantasizing about a stranger, no matter how good looking he was.

A rich laugh broke the buzz of voices and her heart skipped a beat. She peeked over her book. He’d come, just like he had the last three Thursdays for lunch. He leaned against the bar, right hand buried in his trousers’ pocket, giving him an air of easy confidence. She admired that confidence. His shaggy hair made him look charming and his toned arms hinted at a hidden athleticism. His smart gray suit made him appear refined. And while the room was too dark to tell, she was willing to bet his eyes shone whenever he laughed, or maybe she’d been reading too many romance novels since her breakup. What she did know for sure was he liked books too; he always read while he ate. The first week she spotted him with a guidebook about New York City and last week a book about the effects of potions on the human body.

She bet he spent his weekends climbing mountains and traveling Europe. Or flying around a Quidditch pitch while his supermodel girlfriend cheered him on. Maybe he was a doctor at St. Mungo’s and the lead hunk like on Muggle medical shows. She could imagine endless possibilities with him unavailable in every single one of them. And in none of them did he sit around watching girls without having the guts to approach them. A confident hunk like him had no use for shyness or anxiety.

A pretty woman with the fashion sense of a movie star tapped him on the shoulder and leaned over to speak with him. He tilted his head toward the woman. She rested her hand on his upper arm and he didn’t pull away. They made a good match together. Side by side they looked good enough to grace a magazine cover.

Lucy looked back down at her book. She’d imagined how to approach him a hundred times. Fantasized how it’d play out while she lied awake at night staring at the ceiling. She managed to flirt with a cute blond at a bookstore a week ago, but as soon as she saw the redhead her confidence washed away with the rain. She let out a sigh. Had her break up really made her so afraid of rejection? Afraid of how difficult another relationship would be?

Rain pattered against the windows. Sometimes she found the sound soothing, but mostly she hated how often it rained in England. She missed all the sunny days back home free of clouds and mud. English Quidditch players had to be experts at handling slippery balls and getting soaked to the bone. And their immune systems must be fantastic. Not that she’d know, she’d never been good enough to make the team during her school days and she rarely kept up with the world cup. Maybe she could take lessons from her cousin. Oliver always claimed to be a fantastic keeper and despite being a few years older than her, she was beginning to wonder if Quidditch would always come first to him.

“Sorry to interrupt your glaring battle with the rain, but can I sit here? All the other tables are taken,” a smooth voice asked.

She glanced up, her pulse stuttering as she came face-to-face with the redhead haunting her daydreams. He stood with a plate in one hand, a drink in the other, a book tucked under one arm, and an expectant look on his face. This wasn’t the first time she shared a table with a stranger. Still, she’d never dared hope to share one with him.

“Sure.” Her voice came out high and she wished she could melt away in embarrassment. How could she seduce a guy if she couldn’t manage one lousy word? She wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore. Handsome men shouldn’t turn her into such a knotted ball of nerves.

“Brilliant. I was afraid I’d have to sit with the horde of teenage girls over there.” He tilted his head in their direction while he set his food and drink down. “Between you and me, teenage girls are a bit scary. They always seem to come in packs, like wolves.”

She glanced over toward the windows and spotted the gaggle of girls leaning over a magazine. A shirtless male model smiled up at them from the pages. Hearts surrounded his head. They giggled in unison. “I don’t think wolves enjoy wearing matching nail polish.”

“Have you ever checked?” His voice was lighthearted, letting her know he was teasing. “Ah, we’re reading the same book,” he said as he slid into his seat. She whirled her head back around and caught the front cover of his book on the table. Unable to come up with anything witty, all she could do was nod. She struggled to think of something while he opened his book, but her mind came up blank. 

And then his attention was on his food and book, leaving her to peek over hers at him. When she grabbed her drink the ice cubes made such a racket she feared she’d annoy him, but he didn’t look up. She could ask a question yet. Heaven knows her book never kept the strangers who’d shared her table before from bothering her. But what if he didn’t like his reading being disturbed? Her ex hated his concentration being interrupted. The last thing she wanted to be remembered as was that annoying woman who wouldn’t let him read in peace.

Get a grip, she told herself. Had she really expected any of her fantasies to play out? For him to walk over and ask her on a date? Her scenery may have changed, but she knew dating wouldn’t be any easier in England than America. And now she was at the age where it was a tossup whether a man she spotted with no ring could be single or weeks away from walking to the altar.

Mister Handsome’s forehead wrinkled as he read. He remained engrossed in his book. His mouth hung open for several moments before he turned the page and finally took a bite out of his sandwich.

Realizing how delusional she’d been, she snapped her book shut. She really needed to get out more instead of sitting around spying on men. Oliver mentioned a local Quidditch match tomorrow. He might be busy with a date but no reason she couldn’t go alone. It’d be better than sulking at home and she hadn’t been to a match yet. Moving to England would be useless if she didn’t try to experience what it had to offer.

“Don’t like the book?”

She raised her head to find him staring at her. With her fantasies quashed her nerves had scattered with the rain. No way this guy didn’t have a girlfriend, so why feel nervous? She didn’t need to impress him.

“I think it’s dry.” She reached for her drink to hide the frown threatening to show, her day feeling like one huge disappointment.

His head bobbed. “As dry as the burnt toast my mum makes.”

Surprised, she snorted into her drink. 

“I’m only reading it because someone recommended it to me, but I don’t think I’ll trust her recommendations ever again.” Her. Of course there was a her. He probably had a lot of women in his life.

“Mine was a gift.” Bless Oliver’s heart, he’d tried, but he didn’t spend much time with books. He often teased her, saying if she had gone to Hogwarts she’d be a Ravenclaw. “And I can’t go into any bookstores without seeing a dozen copies of it.”

Mr. Handsome tilted his head in a way that made her think of a curious puppy. “Is that an American accent I hear? I can’t imagine an American coming all this way just for some leaky cookware.” Oh god, good looks and a sense of humor. His girlfriend was a lucky girl.

This answer she had down pat. Enough strangers had already asked her. “I moved here recently. Thought England would make for a good change of scenery.”

“Ah. That explains why you were glaring at the rain. I hear you Americans are spoiled by the sun.”

She smiled. “It’s much better than being drowned by the rain.”

“George,” he said, holding his hand out.

She stared at his hand for a moment before realizing he wanted a handshake. She blushed as she accepted his hand. “Lucy.”

“So Lucy, what do you think of England so far?” He bit into his sandwich, never taking his gaze off her.

“I’m not a fan of the rain, but all the good looking Brits with cute accents have made the move worth it so far.” She’d used the same line on the blond last week when he offered to share his umbrella with her after her American accent surprised him. The second time around the line didn’t feel as smooth. She wondered if it was too much.

He grinned at her. “If you are into cute Brits, I’d say you’re in the right place.” 

She rested her head on her hand. Something about him made him feel inviting, easy to talk to. Unlike her ex he didn’t look too serious or like a workaholic tied to his office. Instead his relaxed position made him seem easy going and not likely to bite her head off for asking questions. He might be taken, but he was too interesting to walk away from so soon. 

Besides, she had a lot of questions. Why’d he come in every Thursday? And was he planning a trip to New York City? Was that why he read the guidebook? For now she figured it’d be best to stick to less personal questions. No reason to keep dreaming about a man likely to be off limits. “Did you happen to go to Hogwarts?”

“Of course. Why?” One eyebrow rose.

“Just curious. My cousin went to Hogwarts and I was always jealous he got to go to school in such an old castle. I had a teacher who was obsessed with Hogwarts. She always held it up as the golden standard to strive for. Between her and some of the ways our school tried to mimic Hogwarts, I always wondered if Hogwarts would stand up to its name.” She turned her gaze back toward the rain. Hogwarts wasn’t very far from here. She’d have to remember to ask Oliver if visitors were allowed. 

George chewed on his sandwich, his brow knitting in thought. He swallowed. “I’ve always wanted to visit New York City. I’m hoping to get there next year.” That explained the guidebook he’d been toting around two weeks ago.

“I’ve been there. It’s noisy with tourists everywhere. Although Broadway is pretty good.”

“Not enough men with cute accents there for you, eh?”

She laughed. “Guess not.”

He glanced down at his pocket watch. “It’s been swell, but I’ve gotta get back to work. Cheers.” He saluted her before tucking the book back under his arm and standing. Before he reached the door a house elf cleared his dishes away and by the time he disappeared into the rain, it felt like he’d never been at the table at all.

With the pub beginning to clear out, she knew she ought to get back to work too. She wasn’t ready to get back to her cramped flat yet. She pulled the latest magazine article out of her messenger bag. It was due to hit the printers in two days and she needed to finish final proofreads first. Next week she’d be able to get started on the proofs for the new line up of American books scheduled to be published in the UK. Sitting around reading all day, the exciting life of an editor.

Tomorrow there’d be a Quidditch match to watch and help her forget a certain redhead. Something to get her to stop thinking about whether or not he’d be back next Thursday. In seven more days she’d find out. Or maybe fate would smile on her for once and there’s be a cute boy in the Quidditch stands and that cute boy just might happen to be George. If she got him when he wasn't ready to rush back to wherever he worked, maybe she could find a way to seduce him yet.


	2. Lust at First Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and George's relationship starts to heat up, but she can't help but to worry if she's about to fall for a womanizer.

Quidditch. It’s always been too rough for her to play seriously. She’d never even tried out for her team in school, not after her childhood neighbor ended up with a broken arm and leg during Lucy’s first year at school all from the same game. Lucy was more than happy cheering from the stands where she didn’t need to worry about a bludger trying to kill her. The stands were the perfect spot to watch the Quidditch boys from too and truthfully they were one of the best parts about the sport.

The crowd buzzed around her, split between the concessions stand and the risers. Gaggles of students roamed together, while couples on dates walked hand in hand. The large crowd made her all too aware of how alone she was. Even worse Lucy didn’t know either team very well, but she figured she should sit on the local team’s side. She’d rather support her home team than the rival.

The team banners waved from the risers and her stomach sank at the sight of them. She didn’t know which team was which. She should know this. After all Oliver played on Puddlemere United’s reserve team and talked about all his games. With how often he brought them up, she should know the British teams by heart. At least Oliver wasn’t playing today or she’d die of embarrassment trying to explain her blunder to him.

“So the American likes Quidditch too and not just leaky cookware,” a smooth voice said off to her side. She turned to find the owner. George stared back at her, both hands in his pockets. Instead of a suit he wore a casual outfit, simple trousers and a shirt with one of the team emblems emblazoned across it. The look made her feel less intimidated than his suits, like they were on the same standing instead of him being part of the wizarding elite.

“Yeah. Feels like if I hadn’t come I’d be the only witch in London not watching.”

“That would be terribly boring. Did you finish the book yet? The history of early magic one.”

“No. I gave up on after it put me to sleep last night.” She woke up with it crushed under her arm.

He let out a breath of amusement. “I gave up on it too. Did you happen to notice the way the author seemed to use the biggest words possible? Like instead of small he kept using diminutive and instead of tall we got altitudinous. I’ve never read so many synonyms for enemy in my life either.”

She snorted. “He did enjoy his complicated words. I had a teacher who spoke in a complete monotone with no emotion and I bet the author does the same.”

“Until he plays scrabble and gets so excited his face turns red. He probably wins all the time and brags so much none of his friends will play with him anymore.”

“And they have banned the game from their own houses.” Her shoulders relaxed. Something about this imaginary character struck her as amusing and building him with George felt…well like they had a connection. Something in common.

His gaze darted around her. “Waiting for friends?”

“No, just me.” Her face burned. How embarrassing to show up to a Quidditch match alone. Now he’d know what a social loser she was. To be fair she’d had plenty of friends during her school days, but friendships proved a lot tougher to make and keep as an adult.

He nodded, as though attending a match alone wasn’t the most pathetic thing a witch could do. “I decided to come on a date with the cutest person I could think to ask today—myself.”

She cracked a smile. “If only I’d thought of that.” Sweet heavens was he charming. 

“Hope your outing is going better than mine. My date eats too much.” His eyes shifted toward the risers and then back to her. Wanna come sit with me? If I’m butting into your romantic alone time just say the word and I’ll disappear instead.” He spoke with the ease of a man used to picking up women, but of course he did. What woman would be able to resist good looks and humor?

“Sitting together sounds great. My date has been a total bore so far.”

He winked. “Let’s see if I can one-up that.”

Her palms sweat and her heart thudded. Was this really happening? Or had she fallen asleep on the sofa and missed the game entirely?

“Brilliant. My friend canceled for a date with a cute nurse, but Quidditch is always better with company I think.” He turned for the risers and she stuck close behind, trusting him to know the teams better than her. He took her to a row of seats with a great view of the home team’s goal posts. Around them the seats filled in quickly. Excitement lit up George’s eyes. “Should be a good match. The papers have been predicting a close one.”

“I heard something about a new seeker?” Lucy eyed up the crowd. The seats were packed and the noise of the fans a dull roar. It was a familiar feeling, one she hadn’t felt since moving. She used to go to games with all her friends back home, at least until they drifted apart after graduation all over the states. She’d missed this feeling of anticipation crackling in the air. The excitement of the crowd. The wooden stands vibrated beneath her feet.

“The local team’s seeker left recently, so the reserve player got promoted. She’s good, but it’s up in the air whether she has what it takes for the position long-term. We’ll have to see how she plays today. Personally, I’d be willing to bet on her.”

“You keep up with the team, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I love attending matches. I used to be a beater in school for Gryffindor and I still play with friends.”

She gave his upper arm a playful squeeze. “That explains the toned arms.”

He chuckled and a bolt of satisfaction shot through her. “Do you play?” 

“I used to play around with friends, but I was never any good. The idea of getting hit with bludgers is terrifying to me. I went through the ‘I want to be a Quidditch player when I grow up’ phase like every other kid, but mine only lasted three months. My dad took me to a match where a chaser got knocked off his broom and I cried.” Her poor father ended up taking her home early. Two weeks later he took her to a meet-and-greet with the chaser to get his autograph and prove to her he was okay so she’d quit having dreams about falling off her broom. Sometimes the stray nightmare still crept up on her.

George’s eyes softened. “You have to enjoy the thrill of the game to be willing to risk the pain.” He turned his attention back to the empty field, a dreamy look on his face. “Sometimes I miss playing in school, the way my house cheered me on. These days I like having a team to cheer for. Its great camaraderie with all the other local fans, you know? Something for us all to believe in and root for.” Handsome, good looking, and a romantic side. Who exactly was this redhead?

Lucy had heard about the first game after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters’ so-called Dark Lord had showed up with his followers. The Ministry of Magic nabbed most of them after the students and their families rose up to fight back. The fanatics had taken the school by surprise. Wanted posters still cropped up in the Leaky Cauldron for wanted Death Eaters who’d slipped into hiding. The battle shook England, but the following Quidditch match had been smashing. The teams had honored those who fought and so many people turned out for the game that there weren’t enough seats. The game brought everyone together after the terror of the battle. It’d been all over the papers in America.

“I admit I’ve never been good at following teams, but I’ve always liked attending the matches. Who do you think is going to win this one?”

George wagged a finger. “I always bet on my home team no matter the odds against them.”

She held up her hands in defeat. “Right, forget I asked. We’re totally going to win, duh.”

“See, that’s the spirit!” He grinned at her. A stray piece of hair fell over his eyes and she squeezed her knees to keep herself from pushing it away. Adorable, utterly adorably. Maybe she’d been single too long. The last six months or so of her relationship had been a lonely disaster, making her feel like she’d been single for closer to a year and oh what she wouldn’t do to spend a night in bed with company.

“Oh, it’s starting!” George clapped his hands together in delight. Horns blared as the home team flew out onto the field to raucous cheers. Around them everyone stood and screamed. She stood arm-to arm with George, cheering until her throat ached. Sexy redhead beside her or no, she needed this. Needed a chance to cheer and scream and forget all her worries and singledom. Amongst the crowd she was another fan, another body ready to cheer her team to victory.

***

“That was so good!” She peered up at the starry sky. It’d been a long match, a close one. They’d left the bulk of the crowd behind, but the local team’s victory song echoed out not only from the Quidditch pitch, but the houses they passed by. She darted ahead and spun in a circle to face George. “Are we going to go celebrate somewhere? It’s too early to call it a night.” She didn’t care if her words sounded too bold. After cheering, chanting, and singing with him he felt less like a stranger. It was the sort of bond you could only develop at a Quidditch match. Her aunt always liked to say no romance could beat the bonds formed on the Quidditch pitch. Her favorite saying was, “Those who fly together on the pitch fight together against the world.”

Lucy caught the sound of music blaring from somewhere. The upbeat tune made her want to sway to the beat and her hips followed through. “Where’s the music coming from? I feel like dancing.” She spun in another circle. Her body buzzed with energy. She felt like she could run a mile without getting winded. Watching a match always left her feeling this way, win or loss.

George caught her at the end of the spin. “You’ll have to settle for dancing here on the sidewalk. The pub is packed to the gills already.” He moved into a formal bow and held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I’m honored.” She pretended to swoon before taking his hand. A new song started. The tempo fast as though racing to get to the end. She wiggled her hips before falling into step to the beat. George followed her lead as if dancing on the sidewalk didn’t make them look absolutely mad. This was the adventure she’d been after. The realization pushed more gusto into her moves, pushing aside the self-consciousness niggling at her mind.

They continued on for two more dances, George moving his hands to her hips on the last one. His heat bled through her clothes, encouraging her to move closer. The temperature had dropped with the night and his warmth called to her like a beacon. She kept her attention on the movement of her body to keep her mind from considering all the places she’d like his hands to touch.

She had to admit George had moves. He lacked the awkwardness her school dance partners had always stumbled over. Instead his movements were smooth and confident, even when he dipped her at the song’s end and she let out squeal of shock.

After he set her upright again she sucked in a large breath and then laughed. “I could have used a warning. It felt like you were going to drop me.”

“Me? Please, I’m far too coordinated for that. It’s why I asked myself out on a date tonight.”

“You’re right. You made the right call on that decision.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets as his gaze raked over her. “So are you interested?”

“Interested?” She pushed her hair out of her face, hoping he didn’t notice the warming of her cheeks in the dim light.

“In spending the night together.” The words came out with the practiced ease of a playboy. With his looks she wondered how she hadn’t seen that coming.

“Oh.” She wasn’t normally one for this sort of thing, but England was about adventures, right? And she could use the practice before her next relationship. She could live a little. Spend a night on the wilder side. “Would you like to come back to my place? I live alone, so no roommates to make things awkward.” She rubbed at her arm.

“I’d love to.”

By the time she got him back to her flat she’d already thought of a dozen reasons why this could be a huge mistake. Maybe he was a murderer. Or would be so disgusted after seeing her naked that he’d leave mid-session. Good thing she’d done her dirty laundry today or there’s still be an old bra hanging off her headboard. And for the life of her she couldn’t remember what panties she’d worn today. She crossed her fingers it was the black pair with lace. She stepped inside and braced herself for a negative comment. What was it Oliver had said to describe the place? Claustrophobic. 

“Charming,” George commented as he stood in the tiny living room in the very spot where he could see the whole flat. His serene look didn’t hint at any negative thoughts.

She swallowed down her growing nerves. “This way.” She slipped off her shoes and headed for the bedroom. Had she sweat too much at the match and become smelly? Could she sniff herself without him noticing? Ugh, it’d been too long since she did this sort of thing. All the little worries were overshadowing her excitement. 

She stopped in front of the bed. Before she had any time to agonize over what to do next, George had already spun her around and kissed her. All her worries flew out the window with the feel of petal-soft lips on her own. She’d forgotten how good this could feel as his mouth worked hers. His tongued dived into her mouth, circling her own. His hands ran down her sides and she let out a low moan. Heat pooled between her legs.

“It’s been a few months,” she admitted, hoping the excuse would give her a pass for how rusty she was. A guy like him probably never had to go a few dry months. Probably not even weeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you tonight.” He backed her up until her knees hit the bed and she sat. His lips never left hers as he made quick work of her clothes. She couldn’t help but be impressed with how he could work without looking. Half the time she couldn’t even get her own bra off the first try. Definitely a playboy, she decided. It was the only reason he could be so practiced. And that meant she was only one girl in a long line. No reason to worry about standing out. Nothing to agonize over. She could just…enjoy herself.

He rubbed against her, his bulge pressing against her thigh and scattering her thoughts. He smelled like clean cotton doused in vanilla. Unable to resist any longer she slipped a hand under his shirt, feeling the tight muscles of his stomach.

“It’s your turn,” she mumbled against his mouth as she lifted his shirt up. He parted from her long enough to slip the shirt over his head.

“Better? Or should I put it back on?” His eyes twinkled in amusement.

“I’m getting the feeling it would be unwise to feed your ego. Besides, I’d say the answer is an obvious one.”

“Good call.” He picked her up and she let out a squeak of surprise. He hauled her up the bed before lying her down near the top and planting a knee on either side of her. “Personally I think you looked ravishing in your dress, but I’m quite fond of these knickers too. Quite the pussy.”

She glanced down and her mouth opened in horror. She hadn’t put on one of the sexy or cute pairs today. Instead she’d gotten herself stuck with the plain blue pair with a cat peeking out of the crotch. When she saw them in the store they’d been too hilarious to pass up, but she never would have deemed them more suitable than her lacy black pair for a bedroom rendezvous. Now he’d probably remember her as the girl with the terrible underwear, which she deemed worse than not being remembered at all.

He let out a chuckle. “Don’t look so glum. If we knew each other better I would have suspected you of picking them out just for me. But as charming as they are, they need to go.” He ran his hands up the back of her legs until he reached the band of her panties. She lifted her hips as he tugged them down. “Mhmm, they are soaking wet you naughty girl.” Ah, too sexy. Goosebumps sprung up in the wake of his hands as he tugged her panties down her legs.

She thrust toward him, trying to feel more of his skin against hers. When her legs met his trousers, she lowered herself and reached for his bulge. Her hand rubbed circle over him and his hips thrust himself into her hand. A grunt escaped him and the sound made her muscles clench.

Without letting herself consider how he might react, she wrapped her legs and arms around him. Then she rolled him over, positioning herself on top. He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. Arousal tinted his cheeks pink and his tousled hair gave him a debauched look that sent her desire spiking. Adventure, she reminded herself. She would follow her body and let herself indulge in her fantasies.

“Like being on top do you?” He grabbed her ass, holding her in place as he ground against her.

“I like a lot of positions.” Her voice came out a purr. This felt freeing, she thought, to be able to chase after what she wanted without worrying about what he’d think. She fumbled with the button of his pants before freeing him. His member popped out, standing straight and tall with a slight curve to the left. She grasped him, running her hand up and then back down his shaft, liking the way a hiss of air escaped him. “I want to taste you.” She slid down his body until her mouth hovered an inch from his tip. “Is that allowed?”

“Bloody hell. Taste me all night if you want.” His voice sounded breathless and his hips rose in his eagerness.

With a smile she wrapped her lips around him, pulling a moan from him. Tonight would be a good night. No, scratch that. It was going to be an amazing night.

***

The sun pricked at her eyes and she rolled over. Her hand reached across the bed, searching for the warm body she’d curled up against when she fell asleep the night before. Her eyes shot up and she sat up. The bed beside her lay empty and cold. She froze, listening to the sounds of her flat. A bird chirped in the tree outside her window. A dog barked from somewhere down the road. No sounds came from inside and the bathroom door hung open, dashing any hopes he’d been shut up inside.

She collapsed onto her back, feeling foolish for thinking he’d stay. “Are you interested?” He’d asked the question with such casualness. She should have known better than to expect him to not sneak out in the night. No way could she show up to the Leaky Cauldron Thursday. It’d be too awkward when she saw him, the man who’d escaped her room while she slept. If he’d been more interested, he would have stayed. No way could she handle the disappointment of seeing him again. 

But the thought of seeing him again felt so tempting. What would he think if he noticed her Thursday? Would he think she was following him? No, she couldn’t make herself seem desperate or let a womanizer get her down. Last night had been great, sure, but there could be other men if she could get herself out more.

Time to try out The Three Broomsticks instead.


	3. Double Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy begins to learn more about George and makes a surprising discovery.

With his lunch break over and work calling to him, George slipped in through the shop’s back door and was greeted with a light floral scent mixed with a smell reminiscent of muggle gunpowder. He headed for the railing to peer down at the floor below. The booms, whistles, and laughter below him barely registered in his mind anymore. They were the sounds of a good day of work, not something to be avoided. The buzz of customers meant good business and great sales.

His mind wandered back to lunch. The American hadn’t been at The Leaky Cauldron today. He’d hoped to run into her, but not seeing her again might be for the best. He was tired of one-night stands and short flings. Tired of sneaking out of bedrooms like a thief in the night or worse, getting rushed out the door when he made the mistake of sleeping through the night. But bloody hell had her mouth felt amazing wrapped around him. It’d been a long time since one of his flings had been so eager to provide him that service. His body warmed at the memory and he chased the night from his mind before it gave him a bulge he couldn’t hide.

Below him customers moved from display to display. A group of students gathered around the love potions display. Those potions didn’t last long and they’d made sure to not make them too strong, but they were bestsellers among students. And middle-aged housewives. Business was booming. They’d hoped to make a comfortable living off the store, but never realized just how comfortable of a living it’d provide them. And with offers coming in from Europe and America from businesses wanting to stock their products, well they had a lot of room to grow yet. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was on the verge of becoming an international brand. 

“You’re distracted again,” Fred commented as he joined him at the railing. “Is this a ‘I have a new idea for a product’ distraction or a ‘I’ve got a cute girl on the mind’ distraction? I’m hoping it’s the first but your face tells me it’s the second.” Only his twin would ever be able to guess right and know what was on his mind so easily. Fred scratched at the back of his neck. His hair bordered on shaggy, but it didn’t fall to his chin like George’s. Despite the difference in hair, customers mixed them up all the time. They always went with it instead of correcting them. No need to embarrass the customers.

George heaved a sigh. “The second one never ends well these days, does it?”

“No, and yet we both keep trying.” They exchanged frowns of understanding. Fred had made the mistake of getting back together with his ex Angelina earlier in the year. The relationship hadn’t made it past six months this time before she ran off with a Quidditch keeper. The last girl George dated declared running a joke shop wasn’t a respectable profession and that he needed to grow up. Last he heard she’d gotten engaged to a lawyer. He wondered what’d she think when she got news of the business going international. Even magazines were reaching out wanting interviews with the young identical businessmen.

Maybe it was their fault for the reputation they’d let themselves build starting in their school years. They’d since become the men women played around with for a fun time. The flings you went to for a steamy night but didn’t want to be seen with during the day. The Weasley twins were for fun, not dating or falling in love with according to women. Plenty of girls came sniffing around after a bad breakup only to leave as soon as they found someone new. The worst one had been the bride who’d seduced George the week before her wedding. 

George blamed Fred for the score of notches he’d put in his bedpost during their Hogwarts years, cementing their reputations as players. He’d always been more of a playboy than George. If not for Fred pushing him to be more daring he wouldn’t have slept around at all. He’d always been a bit more shy back then with the girls.

When it came to relationships the women always left, many in disappointment after expecting them to be never-ending founts of jokes and a good time. The twins weren’t allowed to be serious or, heaven forbid, have mundane moments. Them doing everyday activities turned the women off and made them complain they were too boring. They demanded the twins to be larger than life, an expectation George knew he could never fulfill. The last thing he wanted to do was sneak around just to read a book.

He’d discovered women never approached him when he had his nose in a book, whether because he looked busy or because it smudged his allure. And since he enjoyed books, it’d become a win-win situation for him. He could spend lunch lost in a good book without interruption. Fred called his reading disappearances his “Georgie time.” His collection of tragic books and dark love stories grew after every fling. He kept them hidden though. The last girl to find them had laughed at him.

“I met an American,” George said. “I don’t think she knew who I was.”

Fred’s eyebrows shot up. If anyone could understand the meaning of that, it was Fred. As soon as the words womanizer or playboy got uttered, it sealed the death of a relationship for them, many before they got more than a few sentences in. Using their charms on female—and sometimes male—customers helped them practice their lines, making those sordid reputations too easy to uphold. “Are you going to see her again?”

“Dunno. I snuck out before she woke up. She told me she has a cousin who went to Hogwarts. Did you catch that bit Oliver said about our Quidditch game this Saturday? Said his cousin would be there and he wanted to introduce her to everyone. His American cousin.”

Fred’s attention turned to the door as a group of kids rushed inside. “Think it’s her?”

“Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Wonder how she’ll react when she finds out we’re twins.” Some girls lost their minds about the twin aspect. Those ones wanted both of them and refused to settle for one. To those girls they were nothing more than sex toys. Others didn’t care which twin they got, seeing them as one and the same.

Silence hung between them, but words weren’t needed. They both understood each other well enough without them. Fred knew George better than anyone.

“Try to not lose your head. I know what a hopeless romantic you are and it’s never done you any favors.” The words made George wince. He’d had his heart broken too many times. The only girl to ever truly break Fred’s was Angelina. Fred had been the one to rub George’s back every time he cried over a new knife to the heart. “Look.” Fred waved toward a trio of teenaged girls gathered around the beauty section. Their beauty products, as well as their defense products, sold as well as the prank products, sometimes better. 

“At least if owning a joke shop doesn’t pan out for us we can always go into the beauty business.” Fred nudged his arm. The comment was meant to cheer George up and it worked.

“Better go make sure we don’t lose our chance then.”

They slid away from the railing and split apart near the group. George closed in from the right of the group, Fred the left. They’d done this move countless of times. Now it came as second nature. “Ladies,” they greeted in unison.

One of the girls jumped, the others cast them shy smiles.

“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask,” Fred said. “But it looks like you don’t need any help.” His gaze raced over the closest girl

“But the sky blue would look stunning on you,” George added to the girl near him. He pointed to the little bottle of shining blue liquid. One drop in each eye would turn the user’s eyes blue for a day. They’d gotten the idea from a product Muggles wore to change their eye colors. They carried every color from brown to violet and in varying shades. Red, black, and yellow were always bestsellers during the Halloween season.

The girls tittered. “What about me?” the teen in the middle asked.

Fred peered down at her, receiving a blush in return. “Your eyes already sparkle like sapphires.” 

“Have you considered trying emerald on for a change?” George asked. Playing off each other was always one of their best sale tactics. People, especially women, loved it. With men, they’d learn to approach individually so they wouldn’t feel intimidated. He considered this version of himself the salesman. His lines were designed to charm and set customers at ease and toe the line of flirtation at times, a popular tactic with housewives lugging around kids. 

This version of himself felt right compared to his womanizer persona. Sure, the lines might be meant to flatter, but his enthusiasm about the products was real. He wanted to make his customers happy, and not just to get their money. He preferred to slip into his salesmen shoes instead of fleeing his latest fling through the darkness. By the time he’d gotten home last night he’d been soaked from the rain. That late-night version always made him feel ashamed and used.

Fred tilted his head to the right toward a gangly boy perusing the defense products. His signal to tell George to go in for the attack and he’d handle the girls. With business calling, he’d leave the American for tomorrow, but his scarred heart didn’t look forward to it.

*

Lucy shifted as she squinted up at the broomsticks whizzing through the air. She’d been nervous about attending today, but Oliver insisted she come and meet all his friends. Apparently they got together at least once a month to eat good food and play Quidditch. He’d promised there’d be other girls and she hoped today could put her on the path to finding new friendships.

The loneliest part about adulthood she thought was how her friendships drifted after school. She no longer got to see her friends every day and have sleepovers. So many of them have moved or gotten married and disappeared from their usual hangouts. Having a group to play and watch Quidditch with sounded like fun. Well, as long as they weren’t all as serious and obsessed about the sport as Oliver. He’d miss his own mum’s funeral for a game.

A table filled with drinks and snacks sat off to the side of the Quidditch pitch with blankets laid out on the ground. She didn’t spot Oliver amongst the group huddled around the table, which meant he had to be on one of the broomsticks above. She hugged the lemon roll and plate of cookies she’d made as her contribution and wondered if she should go to the table or stand here like an awkward kid until someone noticed her.

“Lucy!”

She whirled around at the voice in time for Oliver to land next to her.

“Glad you made it.” He straightened up. Stubble lined his jaw and sleeves of his outfit clung to his toned arms. The body of a Quidditch player. Sometimes she wondered if she should get into playing instead of watching. She bet it’d make her stomach look fantastic. “You brought a dessert? Great.” He peered into the container. “Is that a lemon roll I spot?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to make.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. If no one else eats it I’ll get it all to myself and finish it off. Let me introduce you to everyone.” He led her to the table where a flurry of introductions began. There was Harry, the man with dark hair, his friend Ron, a redhead, and another redhead named Ginny who was Ron’s sister. Not to mention the bushy brunette, Hermione, Ron’s girl, and a dreamy blonde named Luna who wore the look of peace Lucy once saw on a hippie blazed out of his mind. Not everyone had arrived yet and already Lucy struggled to put names to faces. At least they all gave her smiles. She could do this, she told herself. All she needed to do was smile, nod, and smile some more.

“Aren’t you the one who works in publishing?” Hermione asked. “I think I’ve read a few books your house published.”

“We’re the biggest publisher of magical books in America and one of the top three in the UK now, so it’s likely you’ve at least seen something by us. I work for my company’s magazine and books division.”

“I hear her editing work is fabulous,” Oliver said, giving her shoulder an affection squeeze.

“As if you’d ever read to find out,” Ginny teased.

Oliver scoffed. “I read plenty of books about Quidditch. I’m not all brawn.”

“You really need more of a life outside of the game. And don’t start lecturing me on how it’s more than a game,” Ginny said. She looked over his shoulder. “Here comes the troublemakers.”

“Is that the American cousin?” a voice asked from behind. “Do we get to meet her too or are you going to keep hogging her to yourself, Wood?”

Lucy froze. The voice felt too familiar, but it couldn’t be. Not here. That voice was meant to remain at The Leaky Cauldron and in her bedroom fantasies. She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“This is my Lucy,” Oliver said, wrapping an arm around her tightly and pulling her against him, giving her no choice but to face the newcomer. No, newcomers plural. Two men stood watching her, the figures who’d been zooming around with Oliver from the looks of them. They wore matching grins and clothes right down to their fingerless leather gloves. Both of them held a broom in one hand and a beater’s club in the other. And they were both…George. Well the one on the left wore his hair shorter. So twins then. 

“I’m Fred, the devishly handsome twin,” the twin with the shorter hair said.

“And I’m George, the smart one. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, you too.”

“Our pleasure,” the twins said in unison.

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. She hadn’t expected them to speak at the same time. A realization washed over her and she bit her tongue to keep her horror from showing. She’d slept with George, but was he the one she’d been watching at the pub? Or had it been both of them and she never noticed the difference in hairstyles?

“Are you here to play?” George asked. The winkle in his eye let her know he remembered their extremely recent secret and she worried that Oliver might somehow be able to guess she’d had a one-night stand with one of his friends. Just her luck. She went all in on the adventure and now got to deal with the awkward consequences.

“I was planning on watching since I’m not very good.” She clasped her hands together, the sweat making them clammy.

“Can’t be any worse than Hermione,” Fred said. “She flies like a granny on her way to church.”

“I heard that!” Hermione shot back.

Fred shrugged. “Only speaking the truth here.”

“Did you bring food?” George asked. “Oliver said you bake.”

“I brought some cookies and a lemon roll.” She wished she hadn’t put them on the table so she could continue to clutch them to her chest like some sort of delicious sugary armor.

“Ace,” both twins said. They darted around her and when she turned back to the table both of them already had a cookie in hand. 

She looked to Oliver but his face held no reaction, making her think this must be normal for the twins. “If you want to play you can always switch out with someone. We usually take turns and breaks.”

“I’d really rather watch today. It’s been a year since I attempted to play. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with anyone else.”

“I’ll help you practice sometime. I’ll enlist the Weasley twins to help. They’re great beaters. Could have gone pro if they set their minds to it instead of being businessmen.”

“They’re businessmen? They don’t seem the type.” Maybe not the whole truth. George in his suits looked like he was capable of being anything, even the Minister of Magic if he put his mind to it.

“I felt the same way but they seem to have a head for business that none of us knew about. They run a popular shop in Diagon Alley. We played on the Gryffindor team together in school. Harry too.”

The girls appeared around Oliver and they crowded him out. “You go practice, we’ve got this,” Ginny said. “It’s our turn with her.” And with that Lucy found herself planted on a blanket near the table, the girls sitting in a line on the other side with a slew of questions at the ready. George was right, she decided. Girls were like packs of wolves.

*

When the teams warmed up, she couldn’t take her eyes off George. He made hitting bludgers look easy with the way he wielded the club. A pair of chasers practiced against Oliver and all three got to dodge George’s bludgers. Ginny shrieked in delight when she barely dodged a bludger in time. From what Lucy understood, Ginny and Harry would be playing against each other as seekers come game time. Lucy would be sitting the match out with Hermione, who’d gone off to talk to Ron while he took a break. She folded her legs up against her chest. As awkward as she felt sitting alone and watching, it was nice to be part of a group again.

“See something you like?” Fred leaned over her, a leer on his face. That look made her defensive. George felt more charming, Fred more dangerous.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would with the googley eyes you are making at my brother like you want to eat him up for dinner.”

Her face burned. “I’m not making eyes. Are you as good of a beater as your brother? Or are you going to ride his coattails?”

Fred let out a whistle. “Brutal. I admit he’s the better beater, but I can hold my own just fine.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it.” 

“Then ye of little faith get ready to believe. I have more talents than being good looking.” 

She snorted. “I’m assuming being humble isn’t one of them.”

George broke away from sky and shot in their direction. He touched down beside Fred and gave him a pat on the back. “Your turn. I already winded them for you.”

Fred saluted and climbed aboard his broom to zoom off toward the goalposts. George plopped down beside Lucy. She felt all too aware of how close he was. If she moved her knee just right, it’d brush his.

“Wanna make a bet on the match?”

She eyed him with suspicion. “I’m not betting money.”

“No money. How ’bout if my team beats Oliver’s, I get to come back to your place tonight.”

She whipped her head to the side to face him. “That’s what you’re betting?”

“Yeah. Oliver never said you’re off limits. Now your turn.” He leaned back. “Make your end of the bet.”

She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. What to bet? “I’ll take the bet, but with one small change to yours. You have to stay for breakfast this time.”

His head tilted toward her. “Will you make me French toast if I stay?” 

“Yes. But if I win, you have to take me on a tour of the local tourist spots of my choosing.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand to shake on it and she accepted. He leaned in closer, their hands still locked together. “Do me a favor and don’t tell your cousin about the other night, yeah? Don’t want him punching me.”

“If you’re as egotistical as your twin, no promises. But to be clear, if I wanted someone to punch you I’d prefer to do it myself.”

He laughed. “Spirited, I like it. Get ready to lose, because your cousin’s team is going down.” A horn blew and everyone mounted their brooms. “Time for me to go win. I’ll see you later.” He winked before riding off. She had to admit, she wouldn’t be torn up if she lost the bet. But was it a good idea to get so involved with a womanizer? And Fred, something told her he was worse with that glint he’d had in his eye. 

Either way it was too late. The bet had been made. Soon she’d find out where it’d lead.


	4. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and George end up on an impromptu date after another amazing night together. After Fred's ex attempts to interfere, could there be more drama on the horizon?

Sunlight streamed in through the slit in her cream-colored curtain. She squinted and rolled over to escape the glaring light. Her side brushed a warm body and her eyes shot open. George lay on his side facing her, his mouth hung open. His heavy breathing bordered on light snoring. His legs were tangled in the sheet and his upper body bare for her to feast on.

Delicious, she thought. Absolutely delicious. With this being their second night together, she wondered if he was maybe he was more of a short fling kind of guy than one-night stands. Once he got tired of one girl he’d move on to the next one waiting in line. Or maybe he just liked her accent for the time being. Lord knew she liked his. And his noises. The way he had growled when he came the night before made her shiver. She couldn’t think about last night without getting wet all over again.

Her fingers trailed down his chest and over his stomach, enjoying the feel of his soft skin. His pink nipples stood out against his pale chest. A thin line of ginger hair trailed from his belly button toward his manhood. His morning wood bulged beneath the sheet. She pulled the cloth down to trace a circle around his tip. Then she grabbed him and ran her hand down then back up her shaft. Her body warmed up, a tingle of desire shooting through her. His breathing quieted and when she glanced back at his face, she found him watching her.

She’d never had morning sex before, she realized. This could be the perfect time to try it out. A morning adventure.

“Is this my morning wakeup call?” His voice came out groggy. “I was hoping to wake up to French toast but this will do.”

“I’m beginning to think you have a favorite breakfast food.”

His mouth turned up in a tired smile. “Maybe.”

She rolled him onto his back and climbed on top. The sheet wrapped around his legs kept them pinned. “I’ll make you your French toast soon, but first I need to take care of something.”

“I like where this is heading.” His hands grabbed her ass and pulled her up higher until his hardness grazed her folds.

She ground down on him, his tip hitting her sensitive nub just right. A satisfied groan escaped her.

He brushed a hand up her side, stopping to cup a breast. “Can you touch yourself for me? I want to watch.”

She bit her bottom lip. The purr in his voice made it impossible to deny him. She slid her hand down, his attention glued to it. She jerked forward when she circled her clit. Her eyes shut. If he looked disgusted, she didn’t want to see it.

“Don’t be shy. Open those pretty eyes for me.” George’s hands returned to her ass. “Watching your face makes me hot.”

She obeyed, her body heating as their gazes connected. His lips part as he let out a low growl. Goose bumps erupted on her arms. Oh the things his noises did to her body. Liking the way he watched her, she ran a hand up her front, going as slow as she could manage. When she reached her breasts she tweaked her nipples, earning a breathy exhale from George.

“Mhmm, that’s a good girl,” he said in a husky voice that made her grind faster on him.

Unable to wait any longer, she shifted to guide him in. As he slid inside she moaned. He felt exquisite the way he filled her up. Perfect. She gave herself time to adjust to him before she began to move again, choosing a steady rhythm. 

Her gaze fell to his parted lips. Before she had time to think about it her lips covered his. He returned the kiss, nipping at her bottom lip. Feeling the tension between her legs growing, she sped up her thrusts. She adjusted her angle until he rubbed her sweet spot just right. Her breathing came out in ragged pants as he continued to attack her mouth with his. A minute later her world exploded as pleasure rocketed through her veins. She collapsed against his chest.

George’s grip on her ass tightened as he took over, driving up into her in an uneven, desperate rhythm. Half a minute later he shuddered. His eyes fell closed in bliss. She remained on top of him, her head on his shoulder. He loosely wrapped his arms around her.

“I’ll take that over an alarm any day,” he said.

“I agree.” She let herself enjoy the heat of his body against hers. The way his arms felt encircled around her back. The spot was comfortable, safe.

His stomach growled, breaking the silence. “I think that’s our sign that it’s time for breakfast soon.”

*

How could a man be so sexy and utterly adorable? The way he complimented her food was more fitting for a five star restaurant than a simple breakfast. With the gusto he put away several pieces of French toast with, she guessed he definitely had a favorite breakfast food. 

“Idea,” he proclaimed as he put his fork down. “Since you’ve been such a top-notch host, how about I let you have your end of the bet? Name a place and I’ll take you today.”

She knew exactly where she wanted to go. She didn’t need time to consider. “Hogsmeade. Oliver used to talk about it all the time. And I want to go by train. I can’t get enough of your trains.”

“Done. Hogsmeade it is.”

Two hours later, each of them freshly showered and dressed for the day, they climbed off the train and into Hogsmeade. She’d spent the whole ride glued to the window in wide-eyed excitement. George had relaxed with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out. When the train stopped he had to dash after her before she could disappear off into the village without him. He caught up to her once she reached the platform and stopped to take the view in. 

“Well?” she turned to face him.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Aren’t you going to give me the grand tour? Otherwise what’s the point of bringing a hot local along?”

He grinned and held his arm out to her. “Please allow me to giving you an exclusive tour.” He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “If you would please look around you’ll see the Hogsmeade train platform. If you like to travel by train, this is the place to be.”

“George!” She couldn’t help the smile leaking into her voice. 

He gave a laugh of delight. “Come on, I know a great candy shop.” He headed for the village.

She gawked as they entered the village. “This place looks so…well English. It’s cute. I bet it looks like a postcard at Christmas.”

“It does. There’s the shop up ahead.”

Colorful displays of candies and chocolates lined the windows of the shop. Whimsical was the best way she could think to describe the shop. The inside was just as colorful and packed with displays from toffees, chocolates, gummies, and Bertie Bott’s Beans. As soon as she spotted something she liked, something else caught her attention out of the corner of her eye until she no longer knew what she wanted most.

“Everything looks good.” She stared at the display of fudge, the number of options dizzying. This place reminded her a bit of her favorite candy store form back home. They both smelled like vanilla and hot chocolate with a tang of mint hiding beneath. She used to visit the old shop with her friends all the time during their school days. And then they graduated and moved away leaving her to visit the store alone. A pang of homesickness shot through her and she squeezed her hands. Life had been simpler during her school days. Less lonely.

“Are you okay? You look like the fudge insulted you.” George wandered over to her and peered into the case. “Do you need me to fight it for you? I’d be glad to eat as many pieces as it takes to teach it a lesson.”

Her mouth twitched. “It’s nothing. Just reminds me of a place back home and I guess I miss it more than I thought I would.”

“Well wait until you try the candy. Nothing can compare with this place. Let’s get one of their mystery boxes. It was always my go-to when I couldn’t decide what I wanted and I always liked the variety.” He headed for the cash register before she could stop him. Two minutes later he was back at her side with a bag in hand. “I got the large one. How about we crack it open later together?”

She let out a deep breath, urging the homesickness to leave her. “Sounds good to me. Where’s our next stop Mister Tour Guide?”

He led her from store to store and past a little tea shop where it looked like Valentine’s Day inside. If she remembered right, Oliver used to take his dates there. He always complained about the gaudy décor. He’d once written to her asking for advice on how to ask a girl out. He’d dated the girl for two years before she decided she wasn’t much of a Quidditch fan. That alone was enough to end the relationship.

She turned her gaze from a little bookstore to the next building. “Oh! The Three Broomsticks! Let’s go in and get a drink. Oliver used to talk up the butterbeers at this place.” Oliver once promised to take her to it during her next visit. They hadn’t gotten around to it yet and she’d been meaning to beg him to take her. George would do as a substitute. A sexy substitute.

George let out a hum when they entered. “Haven’t been here since I graduated. Feels a bit strange to be back. I can’t believe how long it’s been either. Feels like it was only a year ago instead of several.”

“Did you come here a lot in school?”

“Yeah, I used to hang out here all the time on weekends. Always made for great people watching. How bout you save us a table and I’ll fetch the drinks?”

“Sure.” She shoved several coins into his hand and closed his fingers over them. “For my half. If there’s anything left put it toward the candy.”

“Something tells me I shouldn’t argue with you on this. It’s probably that look you’re giving me, like you’re ready for a fight.”

“You’d be right on not arguing. I’ll be over there.” She pointed toward the windows. They split ways and she nabbed the perfect seat in the corner. From her spot she could peer out the windows at the village or soak in the ambience of the room. As she stared out the window, she couldn’t help but to think next time she moved, maybe she should consider Hogsmeade. She only went to her office once a week and the train ride would be manageable for that. Or if she was in a hurry she could fly. But if she moved here would it lose its charm as it became part of her hum-drum routine?

Someone approached the table and she glanced up expecting George. Instead a woman stood there, her arms crossed as she glared.

“I hope you aren’t trying to date George Weasley. Such commitaphobes the Weasley twins,” the woman said. “They never learned to grow up.”

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion of my friend.” She rested her arms on the table, doing her best to look non-mussed despite the way she wanted to reach out and claw at the woman.

The woman’s nostrils flared. “Do yourself a favor and raise your standards.”

“Leave us alone, Ang,” George said as he approached. His face darkened as a scowl took over, chasing away his usual good nature.

“Whatever, as if I care about you two anymore.” She stalked off, shoulders tense and fingers flexing like she wanted to punch something or someone.

“Sorry about that,” George said as he set their drinks down. “She’s Fred’s ex, Angelina. Their breakup didn’t go very amicably in case you didn’t already guess.” He stared at his drink, running a thumb over the glass in circles. “She was nice back in school, but something changed after graduation. She became more preoccupied with what others thought.”

“I see why she’s an ex. What a bitch.” She pulled her drink closer. Asking about his womanizing was tempting, but probably not the best conversation material judging by his reaction to the ex. She preferred to imagine she had a chance with him and that she wasn’t just his flavor of the month.

“You haven’t asked about him yet. Fred, I mean.”

She shrugged. “What’s there to ask? I don’t know him. I barely know you.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You could be planning to murder me after all this for kicks. Maybe Miss Bitchy is in on it. She gets me to run off while you get drinks so you can chase after me without anyone seeing us leave together. Then when you’re through with the murdery bits you two sell my body parts to some mad wizard’s experiments.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up, his sullenness beginning to lift. “It’s a good plan. Can’t say I expected you to figure it out. Not sure where that leaves us now though. Guess I’ll have to murder you on the train.”

“Ha! See, I knew it.” She sipped at her drink. “Mmm. This is amazing.” She took a long swig.

“Let’s not forget the snacks.” He pulled a large box out of the bag and opened it. “You can have first pick.” He slid it toward her. “Beware there’s multiple layers, so you might need to shuffle things around.”

She stared into the box, surprised by how many goodies the shop had managed to fit inside. Not so much as a centimeter of space went unused. She decided to take a chance on a little circle of a chocolate with a circle indented on the top. She popped it into her mouth and bit into it. Orange cream filled her mouth and she swore she could smell the citrusy scent too. Once she swallowed it down she turned her attention back to George. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah?” He watched her as he squirreled away a hard candy into the side of his cheek.

“You don’t happen to have any embarrassing stories about Oliver from his school days, do you?”

The twinkle returned to his eyes. “Loads. A few times Fred and I caught him singing while he showered. Whenever we sang the songs back to him the next day he’d turn bright red. Apparently he didn’t like others knowing about his guilty pleasure songs sung by the latest teenage pop star.”

She covered her mouth after she took a sip of her drink and nearly spit it out to laugh.

“Did you know he likes to use his shampoo bottle as a microphone?”

She couldn’t take it any longer. She forced her drink to go down she could laugh. Once she calmed down her hiccups started. “I never would have suspected such a thing from him. He’s so serious all the time, especially when it comes to Quidditch.”

Angelina walked past, moving so close her shirt brushed the edge of their table. She threw them one last glare. George’s smile faded and his gaze returned to his drink.

“Don’t let her get to you. Breakups are always rough no matter what. I mean part of the reason I moved was to escape my ex. Figured if I was going to move out, might as well take it as an opportunity to do something big.”

He looked up from his drink. “And you chose England?” 

“I figured why not? It’d been a few years since I got to see Oliver and my best friends had all moved away. I wanted a change of scenery and always wanted to see more of England. Perfect timing for my career too since my company merged with a British publishing house.”

“You’re an editor, right?”

“Yeah and Oliver mentioned you’re a businessman. What kind of shop do you run?”

His smile reappeared. “Guess. I won’t tell you until you guess right.”

“Easy!” She slapped her hand down on the table. “You run a sex shop.”

George cracked up.

She narrowed her eyes/ “I take it I’m wrong.”

“Yes, but I’ll take your guess as a compliment to my skills.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Then what is it?” 

“You have to guess, remember?” He sipped at his drink, watching her over the rim.

“I don’t know, but Oliver said it’s in Diagon Alley. I can just come find it.”

“Are you sure you’re up for going shop to shop? Might take you a while. Although we’re not goblins so I guess you can skip the bank.”

“I’ll find it eventually, even if it takes a few tries.”

“If you aren’t too busy turning over every last rock in Diagon Alley, are you going to Quidditch practice Tuesday night? Oliver invited us along. Said he’s going to help you work up to playing with us.”

“You two are coming?” Great, now she’d get to embarrass herself in front of Oliver and George.

“If you are going to practice at being a chaser you need more than Oliver to practice with. We were both hoping you’d show up with another dessert. Oliver said he’d tell you to bring one.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“He did mention I should bring something. Any requests?”

“Well it’s been ages since I’ve had pumpkin or orange cookies.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Now do I get to pick another candy?”

“Have at it.”

She wondered how Quidditch practice would go and if she’d be able to bear showing her face to him afterward. He’d offered to bring her today, so maybe she had hope of this being more than some sort of multi-night stand thing. She’d like that, she decided. 

Her mind wandered back to Fred and her belly churned with unease. She had a feeling he was going to play protective brother over George. And the way he’d looked at her made her think of a wolf eyeing up its prey. As difficult as seducing George into staying could be, he might prove easier to tame than Fred. How could she woo George if his twin decided he didn’t like her?


	5. Heating Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up in more ways than one. But with a protective cousin suspicious of George's intentions and Fred suspicious of Lucy's, how can a girl keep her seduction plan in motion?

Who needed makeup to play Quidditch? Lucy did apparently. She hadn’t been able to go without knowing George would be at practice. With how embarrassing her skills would be she almost begged Oliver to cancel the practice. Almost. And then she realized what better way to try and connect to George? He liked Quidditch and she’d always wanted to be able to play. What better way to stick out from the other girls who might be vying for his attention?

She hadn’t forgotten Angelina’s words. Nothing about George seemed childish and she wrote the bitchy words off as bitterness toward an ex and his brother. If he was a womanizer, she’d have to ask Oliver about it. He’d known George for years. Who better to go to if she wanted to truth? She set her pile of food down on the little shaded table. Maybe she’d overdone the cooking and baking too, but she’d promised Oliver she’d provide snacks. If she had any opportunities to impress George she was going to accept them with enthusiasm. She hoped he liked pizza rolls. And orange cookies. And pumpkin cookies. And cut up fruit with homemade fruit dip.

“I said snacks. You didn’t need to bring a whole meal.” Oliver eyed up the food.

She shrugged. “This is my payment for the help, right? I can’t half-ass that.”

“No way will we be able to eat it all. Can I take some of it with me?” 

She grinned. “Sure thing. I brought baggies for that very reason.” Then George could eat her cookies this week while thinking of her. A girl could dream.

He nodded. “The twins will be here in about an hour. Apparently they are getting a new stock of inventory today so they are working late, which gives us time to warm you up.”

“You’ve known them a long time, right? The twins, I mean.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Yeah, since they started Hogwarts. Why?”

“I was just wondering what you thought of George.” She cringed at herself. Way to be overly obvious.

His eyes narrowed. “Why George?”

She hadn’t told him about the impromptu date yet. She was too worried about what he might think. This early in on getting her feet on the ground in England wasn’t the time to start up bad blood with Oliver over dating one of his old friends and a womanizer at that. “Curious is all. Come on, I’m ready to practice.” She flexed her hands, the leather gloves feeling restrictive. Her stomach roiled.

“Are you sure? Because you look ready to vomit all over my feet.”

“No, I can do this. I want to do this. I’ve always wanted to play and that’s what moving here is all about, right? Having an adventure and being the me I want to be.”

His face softened. “Are you doing all right, Luce?” His nickname for her. It’d been a while since she’d heard it from him. She took the nickname as a good sign. There had been some initial awkwardness when it came to seeing each other in person for the first time in years when she first came to England. With their communication mostly via writing letters on a weekly basis in the past, it’d taken some time to get accustomed to their new mode of in-person communication. 

“I’m fine. I went to a book lecture with Hermione this week. It was good to get out with another girl. And I’ve been exploring more of the area. I’m starting to feel more familiar with my new home. Really it’s nice to be away from him.” She refused to use her ex’s name. He didn’t deserve it. Not after the way he reacted after discovering she wasn’t a pureblood. He could go to Hell alongside the blonde he was having an affair with.

“Hermione likes you. Ginny too.” He climbed onto his broom. “How bout we start with some flying exercises to get you out of your comfort zone? Then we can give you the quaffle and we can toss it back and forth.”

“Whatever you think is best. Just don’t get too far away.” If he went too far and she found herself alone, she might panic. She felt lucky George hadn’t questioned her insistence on using the trains. How to explain she used to love flying up until last year after she broke up with her ex? Then two of his friends who’d joined up with the American version of the Death Eaters came after her for revenge and knocked her from her broom. Sometimes she could fly without a problem. Other times those same nightmares of falling from her broom that used to plague her as a child came back, this time with the memories of hitting the ground and hearing the pop of her wrist breaking.

“I’ll stay right beside you.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and stared her in the eye. “You can do this Luce. If something is too much tell me, okay?”

“I will, but I don’t want to be a wuss. I need you to push me. As long as you stay with me I can do this. You have no idea how envious I feel when I watch you play. You make it look so easy.”

“We’ll start simple and work our way up. Follow me, okay?” He started with a simple trip around the Quidditch pitch. Her pounding pulse calmed as she flew. After the third pass she felt ready when Oliver dived toward the ground and pulled up only feet from hitting the grass. He continued putting her through different dives, spins, and dodges, ending with making her go right through a goal hoop upside down. 

Her legs brushed the top of the hoop and a shot of adrenaline coursed through her. Instead of getting afraid, the feeling exhilarated her. She readjusted her grip on the broom and made a second pass for good measure. Getting used to carrying the quaffle under one arm was a different matter. With only one hand on the broom she had to readjust her balance, rely less on her grip.

“Throw it to me!” Oliver called. “We’ll start while you are sitting still then move up to tossing it up and down the pitch.”

She raised up, ready to throw the ball. Then she tilted sideways as her heart jumped into her throat. She readjusted and tossed the quaffle. She missed. The ball went wide, but Oliver zoomed left and down quick enough to catch it before it reached the ground. It took her two more tries before she tossed it right into Oliver’s lap. Then they zoomed up and down the pitch, passing the quaffle back and forth. Whenever they reached the goal post she would try to land a goal. The first attempt bounced of the ring. The second flew too low. The third attempt made it in and then ricocheted off the side and back out the way it’d gone in. 

She took a deep breath as she started back down the pitch. Oliver moved farther away, forcing her to throw harder. She heaved the ball in his direction. A figure appeared between them, snatching the quaffle before it could reach Oliver. He tossed it over Sarah’s head and to the redhead on the other side. She squinted at the first red head. Had to be George judging by his hair and the green headband he wore to keep it out of his eyes. Fred caught the quaffle and tossed it her way. Oliver zoomed ahead to play Keeper. As simple as that they melded into practice together. Not once did she manage to get a quaffle past Oliver. No surprise there.

An hour passed before they called it a night. Oliver made the time-out sign and the twins shot toward the table of food together. Oliver caught up with Lucy halfway to the ground.

“You doing okay? You’re getting better. A few more practices and you will be game ready. Just don’t get any hopes about going pro.”

“I think it’s going to take a lot longer for me to get on the same level as the rest of your friends.” She landed and her right arm threatened to drop her broom. Her arm felt like jelly after all the throwing she’d done. Sweat trickled down the back of her shirt. She wiped her face with the rag Oliver tossed her and hoped she didn’t smell as gross as she felt.

“Brings back memories of us as kids when you visited England. Remember how we stayed outside most of the visit to play, even in the rain? We snuck away on brooms a few times.”

“I remember. Took long enough for us to get to play Quidditch together, didn’t it?” She remembered why they stayed outside. Not because they wanted to play but because they wanted to avoid the arguing adults. The surprise trip hadn’t gone as her parents had hoped. If anything it only made family tensions worse and left her family with no hope the Brits would ever accept the American branch. It also started her and Oliver’s secret correspondence. They adults could argue about things that happened before Oliver and Lucy were born all they wanted, but Lucy and Oliver decided not to be a part of it.

“Looks like your food is a hit.” He wiped the back of his neck down, his gaze on the twins. Both Fred and George held a cookie in each hand. “It’s the only way you’ll be able to get them to practice with us. They aren’t as wed to the game as I am.”

“No one is as wed to Quidditch as you.” She made her way to the table, her throat dry and scratchy. 

She grabbed her bottle of water and chugged half of it down. When she lowered it, she found the twins watching her.

“Great practice today, yeah?” George said.

Fred nodded. “Lucy would be the best chaser at the local care home. Those old folks wouldn’t be able to keep up with her.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” She pointed at her hair. “Cute headband, George.” Wearing her cat underwear may not have been such a bad choice after all. Who better to appreciate them than the redhead who wore a headband fit for a leprechaun?

He rested a hand on one hip while turning sideways. The pose made him look like a terrible runway model. “Thanks. I think the rainbows and pots of gold really bring my hairstyle together.” 

“It’s almost as cute as the one covered in unicorns,” Fred said.

Oliver reached past Lucy for his drink. “She’s going to need practice dodging bludgers next. Gentle bludgers.” He emphasized the gentle.

“I don’t know.” Lucy chewed on her bottom lip. “Might be best if I stick to watching.”

“Nonsense,” Fred and George said in unison. 

“Are you sure you’re related to Oliver?” Fred asked.

“You don’t have even a quarter of his love for Quidditch,” George finished.

“Very funny,” Oliver grumbled. 

“Hey, did you talk to Ginny yet this week?” Fred asked him. “She has something important for you.”

Oliver groaned. “Don’t tell me she’s trying to set me up on another blind date.” 

George gave Lucy a shy smile as Oliver continued to grumble at Fred. “You going to The Leaky Cauldron for lunch Thursday?”

“Usually do.” She reached for a cookie to hide her nerves. “You?”

“Probably. Wanna eat together? I still have some candy left. I hid it before Fred got a chance to eat it all.”

“Sure.” Excitement shot through her veins. She’d get to see him again. Alone. “Have you started a new book yet?”

“Yeah, a muggle one about spaceships. It’s fascinating. You can borrow it when I’m done if you want.” So he was interested in muggle books then? Her ex had looked down on anything muggle related.

“I’d love to.” She couldn’t remember the last time she read a book about a space ship, but if George liked it she’d pick it up in a heart beat.

“George, can we talk?” Oliver grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

“Looks like Georgie got himself in trouble with your cousin.” Fred grabbed his third cookie. “Did you really bake these? I know for a fact Oliver is a terrible cook.”

“We’re distantly related. We share the same grandmother and I don’t think he spends enough time away from Quidditch to cook well. What’s with Ginny trying set him up on dates?”

Fred finished the cookie in one bite. “Thinks it’d be good for him to get back on the dating scene. Once his fiancée left, well he’s gotten more obsessed with Quidditch than before.”

“I noticed. I’ve been trying to get him out more. He toured me around part of London last week.” She smiled, remembering how much fun it’d been. He’d hunted down a large bookstore just for her and they ended the excursion with ice cream. And the best part? Not once did he mention Quidditch. Or their families. As an only child, being with Oliver was everything she dreamed having a brother would be like.

Fred began to reach for a pizza roll and then stopped. His shoulders tensed as he watched Oliver and George. Oliver’s hands waved wildly in the air. George crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are they fighting?” Lucy gaped. Then Oliver sprang at George, tackling him onto the grass.

“You bastard, not my Luce!” Oliver let out a snarl as he grabbed George by the shirt.

George’s hands fisted as he resisted slugging Oliver. His face turned red as Oliver shook him. “If you don’t let me go you’re going to walk away with a black eye,” he threatened.

Fred shot past Lucy. He grabbed Oliver under the arms and hauled him off George. “Get off him. What’s gotten into you?” 

Oliver tugged out of Fred’s grip and climbed back to his feet. He jabbed a finger in George’s direction. “I don’t care what you do to other women, but Luce deserves better than to have her heart broken by you.”

“Oliver! I can make my own decisions,” she protested.

George let out a huff as he sat up. “Of all people I didn’t expect you to fall for Angelina’s lies. I thought you knew me—us—better than that. So much for being able to count on my friends, eh?” He shot to his feet and stalked over to his broom. His face and the tips of his ears blazed red. Without another word he flew off, rocketing away as fast as his broom could carry him.

“Don’t touch George again,” Fred jabbed Oliver in the chest. 

“He slept with my cousin and I know his reputation.” Oliver squared his shoulders as he faced Fred.

“You think you know everything because of lies Angelina was spouting? I never thought I’d have to clarify to you that George never kissed her. In fact I walked in just in time to see her attempt to kiss him. We broke up for good after the second go around because she decided she’d rather have George. Called him the responsible one. The respectable one.” Fred’s face turned as red as George’s had, his anger alight for everyone to see.

“What about the other women? His womanizing?”

“As if he has a choice!” Fred’s hands fisted as he took a step back. “Enough women have carved chunks out of his heart already. Do you know what dating is like for us? The women who want a taste of the Weasely twins before they settle down? With the store taking off we get the money hungry ones now too. Never had to worry about that before when we were just the poor Weasley twins and not the Jokesters of Diagon Alley.” He sucked in a breath. “George wants to settle down and he deserves to. Hell even I want to settle down, but the reputation I made a mistake in sowing at Hogwarts still follows us. If you want to blame someone blame me, not him.” 

Oliver stared at him. His mouth flopped open.

Fred let out a growl. “If you don’t apologize to George this friendship is over and that means George and I are off your team. You can find yourself new beaters.”

Lucy reached for Oliver’s shoulder and Fred’s attention spun to her. His nostrils flared but he didn’t say a word. He trudged off to get his broom and follow after George.

“Apologize tomorrow, okay?” Lucy patted Oliver’s back. She glanced up at the sky. As badly as she wanted to chase after George, she had no clue where to find him. Plus she was probably the last person he wanted to see right now. All she could do was hope he showed up Thursday so she could make things right. 

Oliver nodded, his gaze glued to the ground. “I’m sorry. I can’t even keep my own life in order and now I’m screwing everyone else’s up.”

“Sit down.” Lucy pulled him to the grass. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Oliver flopped onto his back and stared up at the passing clouds. It took him a minute before he was ready to talk. “The breakup with Carina left me feeling lost I guess. I thought I was going to marry her. And then she took a job in Germany and left me behind. Some days I still find myself hoping she moves back to England.”

“You need to find a way to let her go. If she does come back, do you really want a woman who ran off with less than a month’s notice?”

“I suppose not. I should let Ginny set me up. Not like I know of anyone myself.” He grabbed a handful of grass. “I’m afraid the next one will take off the same way Carina did. I went from feeling like I had everything figured out to wondering where my life is even going. And with rumors about my coach planning to make his nephew the reserve keeper next year, I’m worried about my spot on the team.”

“I thought you said you were trying out for the keeper position on the main team?”

“I am, but it’s still up in the air whether the other one is going to bow out after this season. Keeps saying he wants to spend more time with his family and less time traveling. Losing Carina was one thing but losing my position on the team is another. Feels like everything is slipping through my fingers and I can’t stop it.”

“Then plan. You know what I did when I felt that way? I started over and moved here. You can’t give up. You gotta keep going. There are other teams in England you can try out for. And when it comes to dating you need to put yourself out there. As a handsome Quidditch player you’ll have it in the bag. Do you have any idea of how many girls dream about dating a pro Quidditch player?”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “A lot?”

“Exactly.”

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if I screwed things up between you and George. If you want to date him, I promise I’ll respect your decision.”

“Tell me about this whole womanizer thing. I got the feeling he might be one, but what Fred said…what do you know?”

Oliver twirled a piece of grass across around his finger. “I shouldn’t say anything. If what Fred said is true I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I guess with everything else falling apart for me I was too eager to protect you. Fred was right too, I should have known better. George has never let me down, on or off the Quidditch pitch.”

“As long as you promise to apologize to them I’ll forgive you, but you need to tell me something first. Where is their shop in Diagon Alley?”

*

Oliver was right, the shop was impossible to miss. And with their name right on the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes sign searching for it wouldn’t have taken long despite her little game with George. Colorful lights flashed through the windows followed by laughter. No way could she have walked past this place without noticing it.

She clutched the container of leftover pizza rolls and cookies to her chest and marched inside. Customers dotted the store, several looking like they were out on a late lunch break. With school in session she didn’t have to worry about students filling the place up. The shop was well…colorful. The split floors and balconies looking over the center of the shop added a whimsical charm. 

She stopped in front of a bubblegum pink display with pink mist bubbling over the edges. Hearts floated up from the mist only to pop in time for new ones to take their place. Love potions. Her best friend had used one on her boyfriend back in school when he decided to breakup with her. They got back together for all of literally an hour before the potion wore off and so did his newly found love.

“You’d better not be planning to use one of those on my brother.”

She jumped. She’d never realized how tall Fred and George were. The extra head of height Fred had on her made him intimidating with the way he watched her. His shamrock-green suit trimmed in gold showed a similar figure to George’s. No wonder girls wanted a taste of the twins with the way they pulled off suits. Too bad Fred was wed to the role of overprotective brother. Getting past him without becoming enemies was going to be tricky.

“Well?”

She shook her head and held onto the container for dear life. “I’m here to apologize for what happened. I brought cookies and pizza rolls. George didn’t get to have any of the rolls and he wasn’t at The Leaky Cauldron today so I figured I’d bring them over. And I was curious about the shop too.” The blank stare she received warned her she was blabbering. “Is George here?”

“Maybe.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his pocket watch jingling from the movement.

She let out a sigh of frustration. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“Why should I?”

“So I can have the chance to apologize. And so you can both have these.” She held up the plastic box. “And because I want to see him and I’m sure you are a fine gentleman who always goes out of his way to help a damsel in distress.”

He smirked at her last line. “He’s near the register doing card tricks.”

“Thank you.” She took a step forward before pausing to look back at him. “You look like a leprechaun in that suit by the way.” She darted off, too afraid to see if she’d provoked him. If he was going to be insufferable, she’d get under his skin too.

A small crowd surrounded George. A round of “ahh’s” and light applause went up when the cards shot from hand to hand in an arc before he took a bow. “Thank you. If you want to learn some tricks of your own don’t forget to check out the cards display.” The crowd drifted away and the charming smile George wore dropped like a mask. When he spotted her he did a double take.

“I brought you these as an apology for what happened the other day.” She shoved the container into his hands. “You liked the cookies and didn’t get to try the rolls so I brought you some.” She resisted asking why he hadn’t been at the pub for lunch. He had likely been avoiding her and she didn’t want to hear it from him.

“Rolls?” His brow knit in confusion.

“Pizza rolls. And I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, Oliver already apologized. He came over to our place with a bottle of Bourbon last night.”

Ah, of course Oliver knew where they lived. She should have thought to have asked, but wouldn’t that make her a creepy stalker?

“Come on.” He headed into the room behind the cash register. A little lounge filled the space. The shop’s logo hung on the back wall with pictures of Fred and George beneath it. He plopped onto an arm chair and gestured for her to do the same.

“I should apologize for something else too. Fred was being frustrating so I told him he looks like a leprechaun. Sorry.” She lowered herself into the chair across from George.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, he enjoys a good insult.” He opened up the container and shoved an orange cookie into his mouth. Then he snacked while he used his wand to float the container onto the coffee table. “What do you think of the shop?”

“Definitely not a sex shop. I don’t know how to answer you outside of that. This place is a bit indescribable.”

His eyes lit up as he nodded. “That’s what we try to aim for.”

“Then I’d say you’re doing a good job of it.” She rubbed her arm. “Can I see you again?” She shifted in her seat, squeezing her hands together. “I mean, I’d like to but I understand if you don’t want to after what happened.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” Her palms sweat. He was avoiding the question and that couldn’t spell good news for her.

“What’s the deal with your family and Oliver’s? He mentioned the American branch isn’t accepted.”

“Family drama long before we were born. Basically Oliver’s mother is from our grandma’s first marriage. When her husband died she remarried an American muggle who was in London on business. The family refused to accept the match so she ran off to America with him. Oliver’s mom had just graduated school and refused to go with her. The whole family has refused to welcome us back even though Oliver’s mother and mine are half-sisters.”

She cleared her throat and wiped her sweaty palms on her leggings before continuing. The way he watched in silence made her unsure of what he made of the story. “My mom’s always had this thing about wanting to fit in with the rest of the family. She brought me over with her when I was a kid and that’s how I met Oliver. The family wouldn’t let us stay with them, but Oliver and I would sneak off and play together. I guess our letters back and forth after that started as a bit of rebellion. Unfortunately my mom has always taken being disowned by the family pretty hard. It ended up breaking up my parent’s marriage in the end. And if you haven’t figured it out yet I’m not a pureblood.”

“Your grandmother, did she stay in love with her muggle husband?”

“Madly so, even after he died. She followed a few months after him. She took being disowned by her own daughter hard, but her and grandpa were always so happy together. I remember they used to write each other love letters and hide them around the house. We discovered my grandma kept every letter he ever wrote her. Found a large stack of them in her desk. As a kid I didn’t understand why the family cared so much about him not having magic, and then I grew up and learned how much some people care about being pureblooded.” She wondered what he thought of mudbloods. Would he scorn her over her heritage?

George leaned forward to rest his head on his hand. “Their love story sounds tragically romantic. I can’t imagine running so far or leaving so much behind to be with someone. I guess Oliver got the less romantic side of the family, eh? I don’t think he has a romantic bone in him. He thought getting a signed hat by one of Carina’s favorite Quidditch teams was the height of romance. She didn’t know who half the players were either.”

Lucy smiled. “Sounds about right.”

“Your story explains a lot though. Oliver always made sure to get to Hogsmeade to buy you birthday and Christmas gifts. Fred and I sometimes helped him pick stuff out. Fred and I never understood why he cared so much about some American cousin he never visited.”

“He has a way of making other people’s problems his own. He just wants to help. That’s why his emotions were running high at practice. He’s been worried about me and I can’t say I blame him. Not after I was thrown off my broom and well…” She swallowed. “He has a big heart is all. Too big sometimes.”

George stood. Her hands shook as he approached her, one hand in his pocket in that devil-may-care style of his. Her heart rate spiked. “I’d like to see you again too.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She grabbed a hold of his gold tie, keeping him from pulling away too quickly. He smelled like he’d been in a coffee shop and the scent felt intoxicating. 

He chuckled. “I think someone likes being kissed.”

“Knock knock.” Fred strolled in, breaking the kiss up. “I came for your cookies, George. Where’d you hide them?” Spotting the container, he pounced.

George shook his head at his twin. “How about a tour around the shop while Fred plays cookie monster?”

“Apparently we’re playing leprechauns today,” Fred said as he sat down and dug into a pizza roll.

George wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulders and led her out. “Allow me to give you the official Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes tour, complete with a sneak peek of our new product that’s hitting shelves next week.”

“Yes!” She scooted closer to him, pressing herself against his side. When they turned the corner she caught sight of Fred watching them with suspicion. Whether he liked her or not she wasn’t about to let him stand in her way of getting George. To seduce George she’d have to win Fred over too and she didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to do that.


	6. Enemy Number One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy continues to find herself at odds with Fred. Will he ruin her chances at dating George?

Fred was officially enemy Number One and she didn’t want to win him over as much as she wanted to punch a smirk off his face. It’d been three weeks since her visit to their store. Three weeks with no progress. It stung after how sure she’d felt about George after their kiss in his shop. She continued to meet up with him every Thursday for lunch, but that was more of making sure she was at The Leaky Cauldron when he arrived so he’d join her. They attended one of Oliver’s matches, but so had Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna, and Ginny. George barely glanced her way and Fred spent his time throwing peanuts down the front of her shirt while doing his best to look innocent whenever she glared at him.

They’d had one more Quidditch practice together in which Fred stayed glued to George’s side. While having her dodge bludgers he sent one rocketing into her stomach hard enough to wind her and leave a nasty bruise. Despite his apology she worried he’d done it on purpose. Not to mention all the snarky jokes he’d thrown her way. Basically Fred hated her and she blamed him for the way George seemed to have cooled toward her. He hadn’t asked her on a date since her shop visit and the only alone time she got with him was the hour at the pub for lunch. Oliver told her the twins were in the middle of a few important business deals. Over and over again she reassured herself that George was just busy with work.

She sipped on her drink, gaze glued to the door leading to Diagon Alley. George should arrive for lunch any minute now. He was already twenty minutes late, unusual for him. Her gaze darted to the door as it opened again, but it was just a woman carrying a toddler on her hip. She checked the time again. Disappointment sank like a stone in her stomach. Maybe he wouldn’t come today.

No matter how she turned over the last three weeks in her head, she came to the same conclusion: George was no longer interested in her. The thought made her heartsick. More than anything she wanted to go home and curl up in her favorite chair with something laced with chocolate. Since Ginny was playing matchmaker for Oliver, maybe she could do the same for Lucy. Get someone else on her mind so she could quit agonizing over George. Those first few meetings had been such a whirlwind and now there was nothing. She should have known it was too good to be true.

The door opened and George stepped through. She let out a deep breath. Wait, no, the hair was off. Fred, not George. He headed straight for the counter to put in his order. Dread tightened her chest. What in the hell was he doing here and where was George? She so did not feel like smiling through Fred’s snarky jokes today. That sounded like the recipe for her to embarrass herself by bursting into tears. Thinking about it was enough to make her eyes sting. Damn Fred, ruining her Thursday.

Realizing he hadn’t spotted her yet, she jumped into action, giving herself no time to change her mind. She chugged down the rest of her drink and grabbed her bag. Then she darted for the front door, her pulse pounding in her ears. After her ex she’d promised herself to never cling to a guy who wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was, George included.

This weekend was the next Quidditch game meet up for Oliver’s friends. He’d invited her along but she didn’t know if she wanted to go face the twins. Maybe a cupcake and a quick pity party would help her make up her mind. Or maybe she could train to be a beater so she could repay the favor to Fred and send a bludger into his gut.

She hesitated as she spotted her favorite muggle bookstore. Fred may have ruined her chance to see George, but no reason to let the excursion go to waste. She’d get herself a new book or two. Preferably something tragic to match her gloomy mood or a story where a villainous brother got his comeuppance. That was a happy ending she could get behind.

*

“Katie Bell brought Emily who really wants to play, but you can take turns with one of the chasers,” Oliver offered.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll watch for a bit.” She handed Oliver a bottle of water. With how hot the day was the wind from flying would come as a relief, but she didn’t want to make them take a break mid-game so she could jump in and force someone else to sit out..

“Did I hear you say you aren’t playing?” Fred asked as he inched down the table toward her. “Don’t tell me all that practicing was for nothing. George and I are great teachers.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to resist elbowing him in the chest. “I can play another time.” Her gaze slid past Fred to where George stood with a drink in hand watching as Ron and Harry tossed the quaffle back and forth near the box of Quidditch supplies, forcing Luna to jump around in the middle as she tried to capture it. Beside George Emily rested a hand on his arm as she laughed a little too loudly at whatever he’d said. She was tall, as tall as George, and gorgeous. However Lucy couldn’t help but to wonder how she planned to play chaser with her long pink fingernails. Several were bound to get snapped by the end of the game. Her boots were more suited to fashion than Quidditch as well. And her long black hair was shiny enough for a magazine ad, but if she didn’t tie it up it would only get in her way up in the air.

“Do you need a drink?” she asked Fred, hoping it’d get rid of him.

“Sure.” He grabbed hers right out of her hand. 

Her hand stiffened, turning her fingers into claws as she pictured scraping her nails down his arm. “Just so you know I have an incurable disease that can only be caught by drinking after me. You’ll be dead by the end of the month.”

“You look pretty good for a dying girl. You did get some lipstick on it though.” He wiped it off on his shirt before taking a swig.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed herself a new bottle, aiming for a carbonated water flavored with strawberry that George mentioned not liking the week before. She popped the tab and took a sip.

“Hey, Fred, can I have some?” Emily asked as she shimmied up next to him.

“Sure. Take this one.” He handed the stolen drink over to her.

“Thanks, Fred. You’re a sweetheart.” She grinned at him with a look of adoration.

“Lucy is too.” He gave her a big smile as he reached for her new drink without looking at it. She didn’t fight him. He took a large swig, his face distorting in disgust as he swallowed. Satisfaction slithered through her at the sight.

She gave him her best angelic smile, relishing the way he frowned at the bottle. He cast her a look of suspicion that screamed “I know you gave me this on purpose.” She patted his arm. “Better drink it all down quick. Looks like Harry is drawing straws for starting teams. Wouldn’t want any of that drink going to waste.”

“Drawing straws?” Emily asked.

Fred set the drink down. “Helps make sure we aren’t all always playing on the same team. Keeps things interesting. Harry will make sure you’re on Katie’s team. Well, probably. Someone should remind him.”

“Someone like you?” Lucy asked.

Fred glanced between her and Harry. “Touché. I guess I guess I have no choice now, do I? Come on, Emily. Let’s get to the team drawing. I hope you’re a good artist.”

Emily gave a nervous laugh. Poor girl. Fred could eat her alive if he tormented her the way he did Lucy.

“She isn’t the Quidditch type,” Oliver whispered as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“What, do you have freaky Quidditch senses now or something?” Lucy grabbed yet another drink, deciding to keep this one closed until she sat down.

“Don’t need them with the way she’s dressed. Katie looks ready to do battle, but her friend looks ready to go dancing in a club. And with the way she’s following the twins around like a puppy, well I have two guesses as to why she wanted to come play.”

“Two redheaded guesses? Make sure Ginny keeps her off your dating list.”

Oliver cracked a smile. “Sure thing.” 

George tossed his empty bottle into the trash as though he were playing basketball. “You playing today, Lucy?”

“Just watching. I’m letting Emily play.” Her stupid, traitorous heart skipped when he talked to her.

“Sorry I missed you at The Leaky Cauldron this week.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I got there late and you were already gone. Ended up with a bit of a rush at the store right before lunch.”

“Yeah, sorry. I left early this week when you didn’t show.”

Ron blew his whistle, signaling everyone to get ready to play.

“That’s my cue. I’ll talk to you later.” He headed for the group gathered in the middle of the pitch.

“Luce?” Oliver side-eyed her.

“I don’t want to talk about him, okay? I think I’m going to head home. Good luck out there.”

“Got it.” He squeezed her shoulder, giving her a look of sympathy. “Come visit any time.”

She stayed at the table, cold drink in hand as she watched the teams divide up. Fred and George would be squaring off on separate teams and Emily bounced on the balls of her feet as she rushed to join George on her team’s side. Katie was too busy doing stretches to worry about her excited friend. A prickle of jealousy stabbed at her stomach. 

As George mounted his broom he gave Lucy a wave. She gave a half-hearted one back. Fred zipped up behind George and waved harder than him. When George noticed, he turned to play punch him in the shoulder. Emily flew to George’s side and tapped his arm. She leaned forward to ask him a question and just like that Lucy was forgotten again.

A walk in the park followed by ice cream sounded much better than watching Emily flirt with Fred and George she decided. She stayed glued to her spot for ten more minutes, watching the start of the game. Feeling awkward standing around alone, she distracted herself by closing up the food containers. At least when Hermione sat beside her to read Lucy didn’t feel like a total loser sitting alone. She must look pathetic to those playing, watching all alone with nothing else to do. She looked back up in time to see Fred get a bludger hit in. The bludger zoomed at Emily who let out a squeal as she attempted a slow dodge. George reached the bludger in time to deflect it away from her.

Lucy’s stomach dropped. It shouldn’t mean anything, she told herself. They were teammates and just playing the game. And here she was all alone while Emily got a chance to impress George at Quidditch. She heaved a sigh. Her mind thought of the laundry piling up at home and her decision was made. Today was her weekend of cowardice and sneaking off it seemed, but she’d take it over sitting all alone heartsick.

*

A few hours later she found herself at her favorite tea and coffee shop. The tantalizing smell of coffee hung in the air. What better place to escape her wizard woes than a muggle establishment? She’d chosen a low table with a thick cushion for a chair. The quiet instrumental music playing over the speakers soothed her. She stretched out and let her worries over the Weasley twins fall away as she dove into her book, a historical with the tragic romance she craved. 

After chapter five and one ice tea down, she picked up the menu to decide her next drink. She usually stuck to the cold drinks when she came alone. When Oliver tagged along he introduced her to the hot teas. Her family had always preferred coffee over tea. Thanks to this tea shop she’d learned some of Oliver’s favorites so she could keep them at her place for his visits. The tea list here was pages and pages long and without Oliver to guide her she felt a little lost. She reread the description of the last tea on the page. A light woodsy flavor. What did that even mean? 

She set the menu down. Movement caught her eye and she looked up only to do a double take in surprise to find someone sitting across from her. His brown eyes watched her with curiosity. He sat cross-legged, his hair fiery compared to his drab brown shirt. The hair was too short to be George which meant…Fred. Her stomach dropped. Why was he showing up everywhere?

“Is this where you come to do all your evil plotting?” he asked. He grabbed the menu, sliding it across the table to look at it.

She took a deep breath to get her emotions under control. “What are you doing here? I was under the impression this was a Fred Weasley safe zone.”

He pouted at her. “You wound me. Oliver mentioned you come here and I was curious.” He set the menu aside to grab her book instead.

She grabbed her purse and slid it behind her before he could get any bright ideas to grab it next. Sitting alone with him felt strange. When she looked at him she saw George but he acted more like an impulsive, possessed version of George.

“This book seems a bit dreary. I bet entirely too many characters die in it.”

She snatched her book back. “If you want to paw through my things then it’s only fair for you to empty your pockets for me.”

He held his hands up. “Only have my wand and wallet.”

“Don’t say that so loud.” She sat up straighter, glancing around to make sure no Muggles had heard. 

“They’d think I’m a loon is all. No worries.” He looked around the place, taking his sweet time as he took in the scenery. “Charming I guess. Is the tea any good? Do they have scones too?” He grabbed the menu again and began flipping through the pages. A minute later he flagged a waiter over to put in his order for a pot of tea and blueberry cinnamon scones. 

“You want anything else?” He peered over the menu at Lucy. She shook her head and he dismissed the waiter. “So, you really sit around in places reading. That isn’t some act you put on for my brother.”

She groaned and rested her forehead against her palm. “Are you here to play your protective brother role?”

“Of course I am. Do you have any paper on you? A notebook or something?”

“Maybe. Why?” She peeked through her fingers at him.

“For our interview! I didn’t bring anything to write with.” He patted his pockets as though searching.

“Interview? Are you mental?”

He shook his head. “I need to interview you to see if you are worthy of my Georgie.”

She shifted, letting her elbow rest on the table. “I was under the impression he’s already moved on from me. Hence why I’m spending a riveting Friday night alone reading in a tea shop.” She tapped her book. “You should be off tormenting Emily instead.”

“Emily has no sense of humor. And she can’t catch the quaffle let alone attempt a goal. In fact I’m suspicious of Harry for making sure she wasn’t on his team. Winning was too easy.”

The waiter appeared with his order. Fred grabbed a butter knife and cut the large scone in half and slid it toward Lucy. The offer surprised her. It was a move she expected from George, not Fred. He poured himself a cup next. She watched him, afraid of touching the offered scone or grabbing the second cup to try the tea.

“I promise it’s not poisoned,” Fred said.

“It’s yours.”

“I’m an adult; I know how to share.” He poured her a cup.

She eyed up the dark tea. “I’ve never had this before. Did you order something gross to get back at me for the strawberry water earlier?”

He shook his head. “It’s a vanilla tea. A bit sweet. One of my favorites.”

She sniffed the tea, detecting a hint of vanilla. He watched her as he dipped his scone into his tea. She straightened up. “Why are you being so nice all of the sudden. It’s suspicious.”

“Implying I’m not a nice guy. Ouch.” He moved his hand to his heart and gave her a look of devastation. “George didn’t get all the sweetness between us. Most of it sure, but not all. Now, enough time wasting.” He sipped at his tea, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “What are your intentions with my brother?”

She groaned. “I’m not answering your questions.”

“Because you don’t want to reveal your evil plot?”

“No, because I don’t plan a whole relationship out when I’ve just met someone. What happened to testing the waters and seeing where things go? As it turns out sometimes the person you think you’re going to marry ends up being a total asshole so why bother planning.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from recent experience.”

“Unfortunately yes.” She tested the tea. The light flavor wasn’t overly strong like the gunpowder tea she tried last week. Instead it tasted refreshing with the right touch of sweetness. It would be a great drink after dinner when she wanted something a little sweet.

“So what happened with the asshole?” 

“We’re not going to talk about it.” She took another sip to distract herself from his intense stare.

“I’m just making sure you’re suitable for my brother. You’re American, so I doubt you’re a gold digger like Emily since our products haven’t hit shelves over there yet. She was easy to pin down, but you’re harder to read.”

“Fond of personal questions today, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “What made you decide to leave everything behind and come to England? According to The Quibbler Americans who support You-Know-Who have been moving to England to protest him being locked up. I sometimes wonder how true that is. I thought Americans cared less about blood status.”

“Are you implying you think I’m the type to support him?” She wished she could punch him. Or hex him. George would never go out of his way to offend her. He was too sweet. “My turn to ask you an overly personal question. Is your family pureblooded?”

“Yeah.” He poured himself a second cup of tea. “Does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter to you?” Her nails pressed into her jeans on her thigh as she tried to rein in her growing frustration.

“It’s not something I think about.” He took a large bite of scone, watching her the whole time. When she said nothing he pushed on. “So why are you interested in George?”

“What do you think?”

He squinted at her. “Could be a few things. Could be a gold digger like Emily, or a pureblood chaser, but probably not the second if you hang out here. Didn’t take you for the muggle tea shop type though.”

Her patience broke after his last comment. She wasn’t about to sit here while he continued to insult her. “Or maybe I thought he was handsome and interesting and had good taste in books. I assure you I didn’t know who he was when we met or that he had a jackass of a twin.” She tossed her half of the scone at him and scooped up her bag. Doubting Fred would have muggle money on him, she slapped down enough to cover the bill. “And for your information I’m not a pureblood, so keep any remarks about muggleborns to yourself.”

She stormed past him and stepped outside into a curtain of misty rain. Typical England. She’d never thought she’d miss the weather from back home so much. Maybe the heat wasn’t so bad after all, better than the rain and gloom here. 

“Lucy!”

She picked up her pace, eager to get away from Fred. She weaved through the people milling about on the sidewalk, hoping he wouldn’t be able to spot her. The street corner came into view and she headed for it, eager to lose him. 

“Wait up.” A hand snatched her arm, his hot fingers burning against her skin like a brand.

Panic welled up as her chest tightened. Her pulse took off like a rocket. The memory of hitting the ground and hearing the snap of her wrist replayed in her mind. They’d told her to wait up too when she tried to outfly them. _Wait up, Luce. We just want to play._

She ripped her arm away as she grabbed her wand. Then she whirled around to face him, wand in hand. His eyes widened at the sight and he pulled his own out. She didn’t hesitate to see if he’d try to use it. Instinct drove her.

“Expelliarmus,” she muttered. Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly she could barely hear herself. A small flash of white light burst from the tip of her wand and Fred’s wand shot up and out of his hand. She snatched his wand out of the air at his look of disbelief. “Leave me alone!” Her voice came out high and thick with panic. 

She backed away from him. He gawked at her. Once she put several steps between them she turned and ran.

“Lucy!” he bellowed loud enough that the woman in front of Lucy almost dropped her phone in alarm.

She pushed her legs to go faster, her face turning red from fear and embarrassment. She’d thought she was over the panic and fear. She’d done so well since moving to England, believing her therapy in America had paid off. Not once had she had a dizzying moment of panic while on her broom in England or a flashback to the attack. What luck, having it all come roaring back so she could attack her crush’s brother. Clearly she was poised for a great romance. Not.

She couldn’t get back to her flat fast enough. When she finally reached it, she rushed inside to put familiar, safe walls between her and Fred. She leaned her back against the door and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting as her pulse calmed and her breathing returned to normal. The tension released from her and she flexed her fingers. A wand fell from her left hand and clattered onto the floor where it rolled away from her feet. Fred’s wand. In her panic she hadn’t tossed it back to him. With a groan she collapsed onto the chair in defeat.

What the hell was she supposed to do with his wand now?


	7. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some help from Oliver Lucy finally gets to confront Fred.

The stolen wand sat in the middle of her table, mocking her. She gave the table a large berth as she crept past it to get a drink. For the fifth time she debated going down to the joke shop but she didn’t know how the employees would react to her. She really didn’t want to face Fred. Or George when he found out she attacked his brother. She should have tried to play nice to Fred. Tried harder to win him over. Instead she had to have dashed her last chance at winning George. Maybe she’d have to send the wand back via owl. Then she wouldn’t have to face either of them. That was her favorite option so far. Either way she needed to do something fast before he came sniffing around her place.

A knock on the door made her almost jump out of her skin. Her heart skipped into her throat. Was it Fred? Did George tell him where she lived already? She froze, gaze glued to the door as another knock came from the other side. 

“Lucy?”

She let out a breath. Oliver. She whipped the door open and threw herself against his chest. He let out an “oof” on impact. 

“Wasn’t expecting you to be this excited to see me.”

“I need your help.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I stole Fred’s wand. Not on purpose but I saw him yesterday and got scared and—”

Oliver held up a hand to stop her. “I know. Already got the full story from Fred, which is why I’m here. He sent me for his wand.”

“Oh.” She stepped away, letting him have his personal space back again.

“Sit down, Luce. You look about ready to faint on me.” He steered her to the loveseat and sat beside her.

“Is he mad?” She stared at her hands.

“No. I explained things to him, about your attack in America.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about telling but I wanted him to understand. If it makes you feel any better I think he feels like a right arse.”

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t. Are you okay after what happened?”

“Yeah, I just panicked. I thought I was over it but when he grabbed my arm I kind of lost it.” She fidgeted.

His forehead creased in worry. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “Does George know about what happened?”

“Dunno. Fred’s at my place waiting. He came over this morning to beg me to get it back for him. I figured it would be better to let him wait there instead of bringing him along. Didn’t think you’d want him to come waltzing in here.”

“Yes, thank you.” She bounced her right leg. Nervous energy zipped through her. “Do you think George will be mad when he finds out?”

“With how embarrassed Fred seemed by letting you run off with his wand, I don’t think he’s eager to tell George. I made him promise to buy me a drink for playing fetch for him and he agreed right away. Never even tried to negotiate like he usually does when asking for a favor. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I promise.” She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Wand’s on the table. I haven’t done anything to it. I wasn’t sure how to give it back to him but I was going to, I swear it.”

Oliver fetched the wand. “I’m glad he didn’t try fighting back,” he called from the kitchen. “He’s a great fighter. Loved to duel in school. He said he could tell you were terrified and didn’t want to make things worse.” He reappeared and sat back down with Fred’s wand tucked into his jacket. “Why were you with him anyway? I didn’t get that part of the story.”

“I was at the tea shop you showed me when he barged in to demand my intentions toward George.”

“Ah, right. He’s a bit protective of George. I think Fred is skittish about dating again too. He was such a ladies man in school, but these days he seems to struggle with relationships ever since Angelina. George too.”

Hearing the name made her frown. “George and I ran into her at Hogsmeade. She seemed bitter and bitchy.”

“Sounds like her. Last I heard she was dating some doctor who’s already been divorced once. If she plays her card right she might get to be his lucky second divorce.”

The jab almost made her smile. Almost. “I’m glad you came by. I wasn’t sure how to give the wand back.” Forget all the stories about princes saving princesses. What those princesses really needed were muscular cousins with a Quidditch obsession. 

“No problem. You know where I am if you ever need something. And I thought you might want to know George was looking for you after the Quidditch game.”

She perked up at that. “He was?”

“Yeah.” He climbed to his feet and stretched. “Wanna come home with me to force Fred to apologize? Unfortunately I don’t have time to stick around here and visit.”

She imagined putting Fred on the spot and smiled. How would he feel if she turned the tables on him? With Oliver at her side she could hold his wand hostage until she got what she wanted. “I’d love to. Give me the wand back.”

*

The whole way to Oliver’s she rehearsed what she would say to Fred. She imagined marching in and tossing her demands at him until he gave in, but just thinking about facing him made her confidence waver. As much as she hated to admit it, he still intimidated her.

Fred looked up from a Quidditch magazine when they entered Oliver’s flat. The place was at least twice the size of Lucy’s and she couldn’t help but to feel a pang of envy every time she visited. Oliver’s decorating style leaned toward Quidditch like everything else. Signed photographs from players hung on his walls along with a picture of himself blocking a goal. His curtains were the same colors as his team. She’d once seen him washing his duvet and hadn’t been at all surprised to find golden snitches, brooms, bludgers, beater bats, and quaffles printed across it. She was pretty sure the design was meant for kids. Knowing Oliver he probably got it as a kid and never replaced it.

“Do you want your wand back?” She pulled it from her purse and waved it in the air. Fred’s eyes followed the wand’s movements and he reached across the coffee table grab it. She yanked the wand away. “Not so fast. Sit back down and listen.”

With a frown Fred looked to Oliver who shrugged. “Best do what she wants, mate, unless you want a new wand.”

His nostrils flared as he thumped back onto the chair.

“I’ll give you your wand back under two conditions.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. His cheeks and ears reddened. “What are they?”

“You can’t question my intentions anymore and no trying to make me look bad in front of George. Agree, and you can have this back.” She dangled the wand from two fingers.

“Are you going to go ahead and ask for a kidney too while you’re at it? I had no idea you’d take off with my wand if I grabbed your arm.” He pouted.

“You were being a bit of a jerk before that happened don’t forget.” She shook the wand. “It’s an easy decision. Either you take the wand or you don’t. I’m sure Ollivander can find you a new one in a jiffy.”

Oliver chuckled. “I think it’s a fair deal. Besides, if you keep giving her a hard time I might have to hit a bludger or two at your head.”

His cheeks puffed up. “Fine, but if there is going to be conditions I want to add one. Neither of you are allowed to tell George about this or how she got my wand. Do we have a deal?”

Lucy chewed on her bottom lip. As nice as it would be to have something to hold over Fred, she didn’t want George knowing either. Too embarrassing. “Deal.” She tossed the wand to him. He caught it and gave it a once over before pocketing it.

Oliver rubbed his arm. “If you don’t want George to know you should leave. We made plans after our Quidditch game for today. He should be here any minute.” He cast a quick peek at Lucy that made her suspicious.

“Shit.” Fred headed for the door. As soon as his hand landed on the knob a knock came from the other side and he let out another curse. Fred turned for the kitchen instead.

“Where are you going?” Lucy asked.

“Out the back.”

“There is no back door.”

“No, but there is a window.” He flicked his wand and the window at the side of the kitchen flew open.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She shook her head in disbelief as Fred slung one leg over the window sill. Too many years spent around the twin’s antics meant Oliver didn’t so much as blink at Fred’s decision.

Fred gave them a salute. “Don’t forget your end of the deal.” And then he was gone and the window fell shut.

She turned her suspicions on Oliver. “You invited me here on purpose, didn’t you? Because George was coming.”

“Maybe.” He gave her a boyish grin before reaching for the door to yank it open. As he greeted George Lucy darted around the corner and into the kitchen to hide out of sight. For a moment she considered following in Fred’s footsteps. No, she wouldn’t be a coward like him. In the front room Oliver and George whispered together. The longer she stayed in the kitchen in silence the more nervous she’d get. Time to face George before time turned her into a nervous wreck and it began to look like she was hiding away in the kitchen to eavesdrop.

She sucked in a breath and marched into the living room. “Time for me to go. Don’t want to interfere with boy’s day or whatever it is you two have planned.” The words came out even and far more calm than she felt. 

George gave her a wave and his warm smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She stopped in her tracks, looking between George and the door. He stood directly in front of it, blocking her way out.

“I’ll go put on the kettle,” Oliver said.

“I’ll see Lucy out,” George offered. As Oliver disappeared into the kitchen George opened the door and leaned against it. “Have any dinner plans for today?”

“No,” she squeaked out. Her right hand played with the hemline of her shirt. She wondered if he’d be mad when he found out what happened with Fred. Would he take his brother’s side?

“Great. This if for you then.” He dug into his pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper. “Directions to my place from yours. I was going to borrow Oliver’s owl since mine miscalculated our half-open window last night and wound up knocked out on the counter. I’m making homemade pizza at six, but if you like pineapple on yours you’ll have to bring it yourself.”

She made a face. “I don’t trust anyone who likes pineapple on pizza.”

“Good philosophy to have.” His face scrunched up in thought. “Although I did get Oliver drunk once and get him to eat a whole pizza with extra pineapple on it. Don’t think he’s touched pineapple since.”

“Didn’t realize how shady you could be.” The joking calmed her. Humor always did. Sometimes she used it as a crutch when she got nervous or uncomfortable, like now. Then people’s snickers distracted them from seeing how she was crumbling to pieces inside as she freaked out. Crowded situations did that to her sometimes, but George seemed to exude his own calming aura. Probably came from the way he always looked so at ease. And his smiles were warm, whereas Fred’s felt wicked. 

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Hope lit up his face and made her knees tremor.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” She attempted a smile and prayed it didn’t look more like a grimace from her nerves.

“Great. See you then.” She left. Once the door closed behind her and she stepped out of sight she couldn’t help but to let out a silent fist pump. And then the realization that going to George’s place also meant Fred’s sent her spiraling back to earth. Why’d George have to go and have an evil twin? It was a small comfort to realize she already knew his faults: womanizing and an evil twin. She could only hope no more surprises would be sprung on her or their relationship would be so dead it’d be moving into zombie territory.

* 

“We never ordered pizza in when I was a kid. My mum always made it homemade,” George explained as he spread sauce across both pizza crusts. He’d given Lucy and himself each their own personal pizza to make. “I like to make it now and again because it reminds me of how excited we all got on pizza night. I always had to share one with Fred, but there was just something about pizza night that made us all excited for it.” 

He lit up when he talked about his family and she couldn’t help but to feel some envy. She’d never gotten to enjoy a big family. Her grandmother had always been eager to spoil her with baked goods, but once she died her mother became more of a recluse with a dark cloud following wherever she went. Her mom also stuck to magic and frozen muggle meals for meals.

“My mom never made homemade pizza. We always ordered in. Pizza night was lazy night.” Or it was when her mother locked herself in her room because their British family snubbed her again. Those little meltdowns were why Lucy learned to cook for herself so she wouldn’t get stuck living off pizza. When her mother’s lows hit, her mother spent most of her time locked away. Lucy picked up the giant bag of mozzarella and sprinkled it liberally over her crust until she couldn’t see any sauce.

“The crust is just there to hold your cheese I see.”

She bobbed her head. “It’s the best part. Everything else is just there to complement the cheese. Can I assume this crust is your mom’s recipe?’

“Of course. To me it’s not the same without the crust I grew up eating.” He arranged pepperoni on his crust to make a smile with sausage freckles. 

She threw pepperoni and black olives on her pizza with abandon. An olive landed on the counter and she cringed. His kitchen was clean in the overly clean way a place got after a good cleaning with magic and here she was dirtying it. The little cottage as a whole wasn’t what she expected right down to the squeaky clean kitchen. The place looked modern, more so than her flat. The centerpiece of the kitchen was a big painting of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes logo. But all the muggle appliances comforted her. She’d grown up using them and her ex had abhorred them. She’d even given them up for two years because of him.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like the painting?” George asked as he gestured toward the wooden painting on the wall.

She hadn’t realized she was staring at it. “It’s fine, this all just wasn’t what I expected.” She held out her arms to emphasize the room.

“What did you expect?” He added seasoning to his pizza. “I’m dying to find out what you think of me.” His curious gaze landed on her.

She peered around the room and rubbed her chin in thought. “I’m not really sure. I guess I expected you to have shelves full of books and plush leather armchairs.”

“Like a professor’s house?”

“It’s hard to picture anything specific when it comes to you. You’re like one big enigma that happens to look really good in a suit.”

He cracked a smile. “I do have some bookshelves in the living room if you didn’t notice.”

She looked toward the living room, catching sight of one. From her position she couldn’t read the book spines. There were armchairs in the room, but they didn’t look like the plush leather armchairs of her imagination. “I need to remember to snoop later so I can judge your tastes. See if I need to be disappointed in them.”

The skin beside his eyes crinkled. “The glint in your eye while you say that is a bit terrifying. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so worried about someone seeing my bookshelves before.” He rinsed the cheese sticking to his hands off in the shiny steel sink.

“So is this modern look your thing? It kind of fits in with some of your suits, but your shop is the exact opposite.”

He dried his hands off on a plain black towel that looked good next to the steel finishings of the kitchen. “This place was the right price and I thought I’d try something new. I couldn’t resist the lure of living in a place so different from where I grew up. Some people go travel Europe to find themselves. I surrounded myself with too many shiny appliances and surfaces.” He tapped the steel muggle refrigerator. “I kind of like the contrast between here and the shop but I want to move within the next few years. I’m thinking another cottage but one with more historical charm. One with some nice stonework and maybe some bookshelves and plush leather armchairs.” He smirked.

She nudged him with her arm. “That sounds very British.” She wanted to ask if he’d keep living with Fred but held her tongue. The evening had been so peaceful without him. No need to ruin it.

He grabbed the pizzas and shoved them into the oven. “Fifteen minutes before we have heaven in our mouths.”

“That’s fifteen minutes you need to keep me entertained for.” She couldn’t help herself, she leaned into him like he was a magnet and he may as well be one. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so giddy around a guy. Her body wouldn’t be able to keep up with her building libido at this rate. He was just too cute and charming to resist. The whole evil twin thing really was a shame.

“How about this?” He bent down to connect their lips and she eagerly grabbed at his shirt. His hands trailed up her sides and goose bumps erupted across her arms. She tried to imagine more nights spent cooking with him or drinking tea while they discussed books or curled up together to read. The ideas sent a pang of longing through her.

When they broke apart a long minute later she sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t understand how you can be so cute.”

He chuckled. “I hope you still think so after you see my bookshelves.”

“No promises.” She leaned against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She let out a sigh of contentment.

“Can I call you Luce or is that a special privilege only Oliver gets?” He curled a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I’ll allow it if you promise to make me pizza again.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait to ask for that after you’ve tried it? Imagine getting stuck eating a pizza you hate every week.”

She let out a breath of amusement. “At least I’d have good company to endure the torture with.”

“I had a few important negotiations and deals going on at work but they are over now so I’m back to regular hours. More time to feed you terrible pizza if you want.” He gave her a shy smile.

“I’d be delighted, but I’m starting to get worried pizza is the only thing you know how to cook.”

“I can assure you I also know how to cook french toast.”

“Of course. How could I have forgotten your french toast love?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll have to find some gourmet french toast recipes.” 

“I would be more than happy to be your taste tester.” He leaned down to kiss her again.

The front door opened with a squeak and then closed. She let go of George just as Fred came into view. When he reached the doorway to the kitchen he froze. His gaze darted between her and George with a suppressed look of panic.

“I invited Lucy over for dinner,” George explained. “I left you a crust. I know you hate it when I try making your pizza for you.” He gestured toward the fridge where he’d stowed away the crust.

Fred gave him a jerky nod before his gaze darted back to Lucy. “Hi,” he finally mumbled before quick steps carried him into his bedroom. His door shut, sealing him away from them.

George ran a hand through his hair. “He’s usually a little more talkative. Guess all the hiking wore him out today.” A frown tugged at his mouth as his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“It’s fine. I came here to see you and that’s all I want. It’s been fun.” She rubbed his arm, wanting his attention back on her.

He hooked an arm around her middle and pulled her against him. “I’m very glad you came. My only regret is I have to get up early in the morning for work or I’d attempt to show you those suits you mentioned earlier. I keep them all in my bedroom.” He gave her a devilish grin.

“There’s always next weekend.” 

“Don’t forget Thursday. Will you be at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Yes.”

The oven beeped and they both jumped.

“It’s time!” George sang out as he slid on an oven mitt. “The crowning jewels of the night.” He pulled the pizzas out and set them down on the stovetop with a dramatic flair. The cheese bubbled and her mouth watered at the sight. The smell of garlic clung to the air. Coming over was definitely worth it.

Her gaze flickered back to the hallway. If Fred was going to play the avoidance game, she could too. But how long could they avoid each other? Eventually they’d need to face each other and when they did, she wouldn’t let him best her.


	8. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While floating on cloud nine with George, Lucy makes an interesting discovery about Fred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone reading. You guys are the real MVPs.

The moment she heard the knock she flew across her small living room. She ripped the door open, her stomach doing a small somersault of joy when she saw George.

“Hi.” The word came out breathy.

His lips quirked up in a smirk. “Hi. I hope I’m not too late for our date.”

She tugged him inside, her eagerness making it too difficult to think of anything else to say. She rose up on her toes and he dipped his head for a kiss. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t been waiting all day for this. That she hadn’t been watching her clock wishing time would hurry up.

His tongue twirled around hers. And then he picked her up and she let out a surprised squeal. He carried her to the sofa where he plopped down with her on his lap. His bulge pressed against her thigh and she bit her bottom lip.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” It felt silly to admit out loud. The last three weeks had been heaven between dinners and letting him tour her around the area. They’d even attended another Quidditch game together and she’d let him paint her face for it.

“You asked me to come shag you after work and you think I’d miss it?” He shook his head. “You don’t understand men in general if you’d think that.”

She giggled, only to cut off to a moan when his fingers delved into her panties. She rubbed against him. “I’ve been waiting all day. I can’t wait any longer.” She fumbled for his zipper and freed him. 

He pulled her back into a kiss, using one hand to shove her panties to the side. And then he was inside her, easing the ache of longing between her legs. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders as she arched her back.

“Mhmm, G-George.” She shifted angles and let out a gasp as his cock rubbed against her sweet spot.

He watched her, his eyes half lidded in pleasure. “You’re so damn sexy when you get all hot and bothered.” His voice came out low and husky. “Love it when you can’t wait for me to shag you.”

She trembled. Fuck his accent was hot when he talked dirty. After this she wouldn’t be able to go back to American men and she hoped she wouldn’t have to. They rocked together, his hands touching her all over, his palms feeling scorching hot against her skin. He always felt so damn good. At night she couldn’t lie awake and think about him without getting wet. This must be what all her friends had meant when they talked about not being able to keep their hands off their boyfriends. Maybe she was just hitting the sex crazed hormones late. Or George was too sexy to resist, the option she was willing to place her bets on.

She clutched harder at George’s shoulders as she drew close to the tipping point. She picked up the pace, eager to reach the finish line. A shaky breath escaped George. He leaned forward to kiss her neck. With a gasping breath she came, her legs squeezing him. He tightened his grip on her, thrust up a few more times, and then he stilled, burying his face against her chest as he came. The tension drained for Lucy’s body, leaving nothing but a serene peace behind. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this. Craved it.

“I could stand to do this a lot more often,” George said as he grinned up at her. 

“Then you are going to have to visit more often.” She buried her face against his neck, giving her body time to settle down. He rubbed her back, his breath tickling her shoulder. She gave herself another minute before peeling herself off him. “Bathroom, Be right back.”

When she returned he’d put himself back in order, except for his mussed hair. She curled up against his side and he wrapped an arm around her. He’d changed clothing before coming, but still carried the smell from his shop on him.

“Is it too late for me to be a gentleman and ask how your day was?”

She laughed. “Nothing new since lunch. Anything on your end?” Her head rested against his shoulder. She couldn’t help but to cuddle up after sex and he always let her. It was enough to make her melt into him.

“Well I’m free for dinner tomorrow too if you are. Fred…well Fred took off to Paris for three days and isn’t coming back until Saturday.” The last few weeks spent Fred-free had been great. No interruptions or insults, just her and George enjoying themselves. Sometimes it had taken some maneuvering to avoid him, but she was determined to enjoy herself while it lasted.

“Another work trip?”

“No. He decided he wanted a vacation on short notice. He’s been acting so stressed lately I didn’t want to tell him no. Besides, we have an employee who is always eager to pick up extra hours. After all the work of getting everything in order to debut our products in America, I’m wondering if I should take a long weekend myself soon.”

“I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation. Is there anywhere in Ireland out in the countryside that rents for long weekends? I’ve always dreamed of staying in a little Irish cottage by the sea where I could roam the countryside by day and relax by a fire at night.”

“Sounds a bit romantic.” George tweaked her nose.

“It could be if you came along. How do you feel about sheep and old ruins?” She rubbed his arm.

“Do I get to pet any of the sheep?”

“Fair question.” The oven timer dinged and she shot up. “I almost forgot about the pie.” He followed her into the kitchen, watching as she pulled an apple pie out of the oven. She beamed at him. “You made me homemade pizza from your mother’s recipe so I thought it fair that I make you a recipe from my childhood too. This was one of my favorite pies my grandmother used to make. I figured since I’m American, feeding you apple pie felt right.” Steam curled up from the pie and she felt the urge to fist pump. She’d been terrified the pie would come out a sloppy mess but no, it was picture perfect.

“Very American. I’ll be sure to eat far too much of it after dinner.” He eyed the pie up in a way that let her know he was looking forward to it. “Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “Before I forget, are you coming to the Quidditch match Saturday? It might rain but it takes more than that for Oliver to cancel on us, as if he doesn’t get enough game time in with his real team.”

“That’s this Saturday? I forgot.” The smell of the pie made her stomach rumble. She’d thought far enough ahead to put a stew in the crockpot and even baked some homemade bread. She was going for impressing him tonight and she hoped that together the meal would do its job. He’d been thrilled about the last loaf. Apparently his mother made almost everything homemade and she decided to rise to the challenge. While she was used to cooking for herself, she’d never realized how lumpy her bread looked until she served it to George.

He hooked an arm around her waist. “You’re coming, right? I was hoping you might be so impressed with my bludger hits you would come back to my place after.” He gave her his charming grin. “I thought I could drag you onto the roof for some stargazing. That makes girls weak in the knees, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” If it made him happy she’d be there. Maybe she’d even get a goal or two. Ah, but Fred would be there too. George bent down and kissed her on the head, chasing her worries away as she melted back into him.

*

Emily was back. And this time with another friend in Katie’s place, some girl named Clara who sported some seriously toned arms Lucy couldn’t help to be envious of. Damn Katie for being busy. Both girls eyed up the twins like they were meat. At least she wouldn’t have to be on their team. She got to be on Oliver’s and George’s team. Also Fred’s, but the goofy grin he gave his brother as they high fived during team drawings almost made him look endearing. Almost.

Emily and Clara glared at her as the teams divided onto each side. Remembering how terrible Emily had been gave Lucy no worries, but those arms on Clara seemed like a very good reason to worry. Clara tapped her beater’s bat against her leg looking every bit like she was plotting murder. Her pixie cut made her look fierce instead of cute. The perfect appearance for a brutal Quidditch match.

“Ready to go win?” George grinned as Hermione grabbed Ron’s whistle.

“Same rules as always,” Oliver reminded everyone. “No aiming for the head, try not to break yours or anyone else’s bones if you can help it, and most importantly, remember to have fun. Sore losers have to buy to buy drinks.”

“Ready?” Hermione asked. A chorus of affirmatives answered her. A minute later she blew the whistle, the shrill sound sending everyone racing into the air.

Lucy did her best to focus on the quaffle instead of trying to track George. His headband sporting cartoonish golden snitches made him easy to tell apart from Fred. The silliness of his headbands was too adorable and the confidence he wore them with made her want kiss him. Then again she always wanted to kiss and rub against him. The last time she’d felt so head over heels was when she was fourteen and her crush picked up the quill she’d dropped. Her hormones made her feel like a teenager all over again.

Ten minutes into the game she scored her first goal. Her heart raced at the thrill and it took all her self-control to not spend her time looking to see if George noticed. Two minutes later Luna stole the quaffle back from Emily when Emily’s toss went wide. Luna tossed it to Lucy. She reached for it only to spot a bludger sailing her way. Right at her head. She jerked her broom down and fumbled for the quaffle but her new angle was all wrong. The ball slipped through her fingers.

Emily grabbed the ball and stuck her tongue out at Lucy. A second bludger whizzed Lucy’s way, this one George intercepted. He sent it toward Emily, causing her to dodge too far away to make a toss to her teammates. She wound up with Luna and Lucy on either side of her, blocking her in. When her shot at making a goal inevitably failed, Luna caught the ball. The chase started anew as they made their way back down the field, Emily struggling to intercept. Lucy spotted Clara, saw her aiming to take a shot. She passed the quaffle to Luna in time to dodge the bludger, sending it rocketing into Emily’s foot instead. Emily let out a howl.

Lucy didn’t get the ball back. Instead Luna passed it back and forth with their third chaser. Every time they tried to toss it her way, Clara sent a bludger after her. And then it no longer matter if she was anywhere near the ball. Clara continued to send bludgers her way. George moved in to play guard.

After he blocked his third bludger from her Lucy flew in closer to him. “I think she’s targeting me!” She shouted to be heard. He nodded. 

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” He darted around her to go chasing after the closest bludger as Ginny dodged it with practiced ease. She searched for Luna and rushed to catch back up to her as she neared the goal posts. Spotting Emily, she cut her off, stopping her from getting too close to Luna. Then Luna scored her fourth goal and Lucy caught sight of Fred and George chasing after Clara. They knocked a bludger back and forth as they kept pace with her, forcing her to spend her time dodging them.

It got her to let up on Lucy for the second half of the game. The game was quick with the horn blaring at just past the half hour mark to announce the snitch had been caught. Lucy stopped flying, her gaze searching to see who’d caught it. Ginny held up her hand in victory, the wings of the snitch fluttering between her fingers. A win for her team then.

A bludger rammed into the back of her right shoulder, sending her broom into a spin as a burst of pain made her let go of the broom with her right hand. She yanked her broom to a standstill. Then she headed for the ground, dropping her broom as soon as she landed. Pain radiated out like sharp needles from her shoulder.

“Luce, you okay?” George landed beside her.

“My shoulder. What’s wrong with it?” She turned it toward him. 

He pulled her sleeve up and winced. “Got a good bruise already that’s for sure.”

“I can’t move it!” Panic swelled inside her. She tried again, the wave of pain sending her to her knees.

“It’s dislocated,” Hermione said as she peered around George. “This is going to hurt for a moment.” 

“Wh—” A gasp of pain tore from her as Hermione charmed the joint back into place.

“You should put some ice on it to help the swelling go down.”

“I saw it,” Fred said as he landed next to them. “Clara did it while Lucy was distracted by Ginny catching the snitch. I’ve been tailing her to steal her bludgers.”

A mottle of red shot across George’s face. “Oliver!” he bellowed. 

“Come on, let them figure it out.” Hermione patted her on the back. “Let’s get some ice.”

With an ice pack on her shoulder Lucy sat and watched as Clara waved her arms around. Emily stood behind her, George and Oliver in front of her. Fred stood off to the side watching as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to get involved. 

“—Can’t prove it!” Clara shouted. She was the only one talking loud enough for Lucy to hear snatches of conversation from. “Accident—I did not!” Clara stomped her foot.

A few minutes later the argument ended with Clara flying off and Emily struggling to catch up.

“Banned I bet,” Hermione said. “After what Angelina pulled at her last game Oliver doesn’t do second chances.”

“I think she spent most of the game watching me. As mad as I am, I’m almost impressed by how many times she almost got me with a bludger.”

“Bludgers are the worst part of the game in my opinion. Too barbaric.” Hermione eyed up the cookies for several seconds before picking one.

George jogged over, his gaze falling to the ice pack. “You doing okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Could use a painkiller though.”

“Lucky for you I’ve got some good stuff in my medicine cabinet.” He held out a hand to help her up.

Fred approached with cautious steps, his gaze darting between them. “You heading home?” 

“Yeah. Need to take care of Luce’s shoulder.”

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll stay out for a bit then. I’ll be back tonight.”

“Don’t forget to check in with Mum. You promised her a picture of you by the Eiffel Tower.”

“I won’t forget.”

Lucy reached for her cookies, emptying them onto a plate and filling the container with other goodies to sample back at George’s.

“Try not to stay out too late tonight, yeah?” George whispered barely loud enough for Lucy to hear.

“Don’t mother me,” Fred grumbled as he headed for the drinks.

*

“See it?” George held up a second mirror to show her the bruise. She cringed when she caught sight of it. The circular bruise was an angry dark blue.

“That’s not going away any time soon.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be extra gentle for the next two weeks.” He pressed a kiss an inch away from the bruise.”

“Always a gentleman.”

He smiled against her skin. “But you got your first Quidditch badge. Now you can feel like a true chaser.”

She groaned. “If this is what you consider a badge I don’t want any more.” An idea formed and she perked up. “Do I get to play the pity card so you’ll cook me dinner?”

He let out a hum. “Conniving. I can respect that. Only the best of average food for you at Chez Weasley.”

“Average food? Can’t wait.”

He chuckled. He caught her gaze in the mirror and put on his best puppy dog look. “Stay the night? How else will I be able to nurse you all better?”

“Would Fred mind? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“It’s fine. We have an understanding. The rule is sex has to stay in the bedroom so we don’t walk in on one another.”

She let her shirt fall down over her bruise. “Please, if that rule was made for a reason don’t tell me the story.”

“Don’t worry, I’m the good one.”

He had no idea how much she agreed.

“Is the painkiller kicking in?”

“Yes. Wait, no. I mean…it’s awful George and I’m so hungry.” She pouted at him.

He pressed his lips together to try to hide his amusement. “How about we head into the kitchen. I’ll cook us up something while you sit and look pretty.”

“Deal.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. Her ex had never made her feel quite so pampered. If she’d realized anything over the past few weeks it was that she didn’t want to let George go. She needed to find a way to make peace with Fred before a problem started between them again. She had no choice if she wanted to win George.

*

By the middle of the night the painkiller wore off. She woke up nestled against George’s side, her shoulder aching up a storm. He didn’t wake as she slid away, his light snores staying even. She kept the lights off to keep from waking him, forcing her to stand in the doorway to the kitchen to wait while her eyes adjusted to the dark. The bottle sat on the kitchen counter waiting for her. She popped it open and grabbed a glass of water. Her shoulder bumped against the fridge and a hiss of pain escaped her. Her hand turned into a claw as she resisted the urge to rub the bruise. That would only make it hurt worse. Clara better hope they never met again or Lucy would be tempted to try out a transfiguration charm on her.

With her glass in hand she headed for the sofa. There she could watch the street while she waited for the pill to kick in. Back when she couldn’t sleep after her attacks he’d spent long nights staring out the window. A calico cat ran down the sidewalk and darted up a tree. A car passed by and then the road plunged back into silence. It was so much quieter than her flat where she could hear her youngest neighbors partying during the weekend. She thought back to her idea to spend a weekend in a cottage by the sea. As much as she wanted to go, it wouldn’t be as much fun without George. A romantic weekend away would be paradise.

The front door creaked and she froze. Fred stepped into the room and turned to slowly shut the door, making as little noise as possible.

“Do you realize it’s two-thirty in the morning?” she whispered.

His head swiveled toward her, his hand frozen on the door knob. The light scent of booze wafted off him.

“What the fuck, Lucy? What are you doing here?”

She glared at him. What was it about him that always made her hackles rise? “George invited me to stay the night and my shoulder woke me up. Believe me I wasn’t sitting here waiting for you. Are you drunk?” 

“No, but don’t tell George how late I was out.”

“Why not? How many secrets do I need to keep for you?”

He closed the gap between them too quickly for her to move out of the way. “It upsets him. He doesn’t need to know.”

“Maybe he does need to know.” 

“No!” He leaned closer, the smell of alcohol much stronger on his breath. She wrinkled her nose and met his stare. Then his shoulders slumped. “I already told him about the other thing, okay? So keep this one a secret for me because you’re nice.”

“When did you tell him? He never mentioned it.” George would have brought it up, wouldn’t he? How could he ignore her stealing his brother’s wand for a day?

A car drove past and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the headlights. “Ugh. Last week. He got mad because he’s so serious about you and I almost screwed everything up for him. I went to Paris to give him space.” 

“If you staying out late drinking upsets him then how about you don’t do it?”

“It’s not that easy.” He slid onto the couch, his head falling against the back cushion. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I remember and I hate remembering.” With half his face pressed against the cushion his words were hard to understand.

She considered his words, wondering whether she should pry or not. Curiosity won out. “What do you remember?”

“Hogwarts. The death eaters who attacked. George and I were there at the battle. A death eater was trying to kill George so I killed him first. I killed a man.” His eyes fluttered shut. “I’d always kill him over letting Georgie die, but not feeling guilty makes me feel guilty. Like I killed a man and don’t regret it. That makes me a monster, doesn’t it?”

“I think it makes you human to care more about those you love.”

He shook his head, the motion exaggerated in his half-drunken state. “Fuck, I think I’m drunk. I’m always fucking things up for George too. Angelina tore my heart out and ate it but she hurt George and I can’t forgive her for that. And Mum, she wanted a picture of me at the Eiffel Tower and the whole time all I could think about is how ashamed she’d be if she knew I was only there to run away from everything. I promised George I’d quit drinking, but here I am.” He held his arms out. “The twin who can’t get his shit together.” He let out a groan. “Don’t leave my Georgie because of me, okay? He needs someone who loves him and I don’t want to ruin his life too.”

She watched him, pity eating away at the hard feelings she held toward him. Maybe this was her chance, she thought, her chance to make up with him for George’s sake. “Fred.” She gave his shoulder an awkward pat. “The therapist I went to after my attack once told me we are our own harshest critics. I remind myself of that all the time. Maybe you should remember that too.”

He frowned. A long moment of silence passed and she got up to grab her purse. She fished out the business card from the front pocket. She grabbed Fred’s hand and folded his fingers over it. “I went looking for possibilities after I attacked you. Thought it might be good to have a place on hand if I spiraled. I hear she’s a great therapist. Might do you some good to make an appointment. And remember, looking after yourself is nothing to be ashamed of.” She’d told herself the same thing countless times when she’d felt embarrassed about seeing a therapist.

He squinted at the card. Then he looked up at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Thanks.” His voice cracked on the word.

“No problem. Go get some sleep.” She ruffled his hair like he was a kid and for the first time earned half a smile that didn’t make her feel like the butt of one of his jokes.


	9. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred is finally ready to reach out for help and face his inner demons, but he needs a supportive ear or two to turn toward.

The music didn’t deafen her like it did at Muggle clubs. At this club she could still carry on a normal conversation without her ears bleeding. Not that she’d talked much with George tonight. They’d been too busy dancing to the upbeat music. The last time she danced had to have been at least two years ago at a school friend’s wedding. She’d forgotten how much she loved dancing, especially with a hot redhead to hold onto and sway with.

She checked her hair in the bathroom mirror before heading out to the bar where George had promised to get her a drink. Something cold and non-alcoholic. She didn’t need alcohol to make a fool of her in front of George. Drinking had lost its appeal shortly after graduating. Partying had never been her thing and she had a feeling if she’d gone to Hogwarts Hermione and Luna would have been her type of friends. She would have groaned along with them to the twin’s antics while harboring a quiet crush on George. 

She spotted George at the corner of the bar and stopped mid-step. A pretty brunette leaned toward him from her barstool, giving him a perfect view down her top. Her perfect red lips moved into a pout as George shook his head. With a flick of her hair and one last pout the woman flounced off. 

She flexed the tension out of her hands. Having a gorgeous boyfriend came with such a price, she told herself, and she trusted George. Easier to trust George than be suspicious and jealous of every woman who made googly eyes at him. One of her best friends had a jealous boyfriend during their last two years of school. The jealousy made a mess of things and lost her a few friends over all the drama. She didn’t want to become like that, not even after dealing with her cheating ex. If she wanted a healthy relationship she wouldn’t get one by bringing her own baggage into it. She’d discussed as much with her therapist.

Lucy continued her journey and sat down beside George. He slid her drink over to her, the ice cubs clinking together. The icy coolness of the drink soothed her dry throat.

“I forgot Fred likes this place too. Already got mistaken for him once while you were gone. I vote we take off after these drinks.”

“Sure, but I have questions and you promised to answer them tonight!” She swiveled her stool, turning toward him. Beside him she felt more relaxed. It was that calming aura of his.

George sipped at his drink, watching her over the rim. “Right, but if you’re about to interrogate me I’d like to be warned.”

“Not an interrogation. Well at least I don’t think so.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t leave me waiting. I’m curious and prepared to spill my drink all over myself if you ask anything too embarrassing. It’d be impolite to continue after that instead of letting me clean up.”

She inched to the edge of her seat. “Nothing embarrassing. But you have quite a few brothers, right? The way Luna has talked about your family makes me think your older brothers are all ripped hunks. Is that the Weasley boy gift or something?”

George snorted. “Have you see Ron?” His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Bill is a curse break and Charlie works with dragons if you’re into that brooding dangerous thing. And if you are I’m afraid I have to break your heart with the news that Bill is already married.”

“The only Weasley boy I’m interested in dating is you.” The words tumbled out before she could think to stop them. Their gazes met and her cheeks blazed. She’d specifically promised herself to not say anything desperate or clingy. She turned away and squeezed her hands between her knees. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Please don’t be.” With a finger he turned her head back toward him. Then he kissed her, a sweet kiss that made her pulse speed up. After a few seconds he pulled away. “What’s the next question?”

She held up two fingers. “Two more. First can you show me some of your card tricks? I always seem to walk into the store when you are in the middle. And two, tell me something embarrassing about you. You’ve got me thinking about it and I can’t resist.”

He pretended she’d stabbed in the heart, earning a laugh from her. “The card tricks are easy. I can even teach them to you. As for something embarrassing…” He stared at his drink, his thumb sliding up and down the glass. “Okay, here’s one. I’m shy. Not so much when Fred is around, letting him take the lead in social situations helps and I learned to soldier through the shyness at a young age thanks to him. At work I put on my salesman persona to keep the shyness at bay. But when Fred isn’t around and I’m just trying to be myself I get nervous when I’m meeting new people. I think I’m also the quieter one in general.” The tops of his ears pinkened in embarrassment.

“That one shouldn’t count. Almost everyone gets shy but since you were so honest and adorable I’ll let it slide. Personally I still have nightmares about forgetting to go to class or bombing a test.”

George chuckled. “You definitely would have been a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. Toward the end of summer break I sometimes dreamt I missed the Hogwarts Express and would wake up in a panic. I was always so eager to see my friends that the thought of missing the train was my nightmare.”

A person pushed between them, slinging an arm over their backs. “Hello my little lovebirds,” Fred sang out. “How ’bout you buy your favorite brother a drink?” He batted his eyelashes at George.

George rolled his eyes. “Had a feeling you were around.” He waved the bartender over. “One water, please.”

“Georgie,” Fred whined.

George presented the water with a head bow and a twirl of his free hand. “Nothing but the best water on tap for you my dear brother.”

Fred grumbled under his breath but accepted the offering. He slid onto the empty stool beside George. “Any grand plans tonight?”

“Home soon probably. We have work tomorrow. The weekend isn’t here quite yet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fred waved it off. His left leg bounced on the rung of the stool. “That doesn’t mean you need to cut the night short.”

“We don’t all have your energy.”

Fred leaned forward to give Lucy a pointed look. “What about you?” She shrugged. “I’ll probably curl up with a book before bed.”

Fred threw his hands up. “Book nerds! I should have known better than to come to you two on a Thursday night.”

“Well there is a book shop around the corner open late if you want a change of scenery.” Lucy suppressed a smile at the exasperated look she received.

He chugged down his drink like a beer and then slammed the cup against the counter. “I’m going to find someone to dance with. You two have fun being lovey dovey.” He hopped off the stool and headed for the dance floor. He approached a blond who by all appearances appeared to be a third wheel next to the couple cuddled up to each other. A moment later he was leading her onto the dance floor. The music had changed since Lucy and George danced, and with it the dancing got raunchier. The woman turned her back to Fred and practically ground her ass against his crotch.

A brief moment of jealousy laced with panic tore through her. He wasn’t George, she reminded herself, no matter how identical they looked. She reached for George’s hand, giving it a squeeze for reassurance. She glanced at George and found him watching his brother, his face scrunched in worry.

“You okay?”

"Yeah. Bad tendency to worry over Fred is all. He's bad at opening up. Sometimes I'm good at guessing his emotions and actions, but that's only because we've spent so much time together. And despite what everyone seems to think about twins, we can't reach each other's thoughts." George finished his drink. "I'll leave him alone tonight. If he stays up too late and is exhausted at work tomorrow that's his problem to deal with." A moment of silence passed between them as they both watched Fred. 

“Want to hit the book shop before calling it a night?” Lucy asked. She didn’t want to stay here with Fred having sex on the dance floor. It made it too easy to imagine George in his place and her all alone. The thought made her want to throw up. 

“I hear there’s a ridiculous time travel romance out about a woman who falls in love with a monk. I’m dying to take a peek. Sometimes the bestseller list baffles me.” 

“Aren’t monks celibate?”

“Not this one apparently.”

 

**

“Night, Luce.” George leaned against the wall beside her door. “See you tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Yeah.”

He shifted on his feet, his smile melting away. “I just wanted you to know Fred told me about what happened. I hadn’t understood why you felt it so important to tell me about your grandparents but I get it now, I think. I don’t care about blood status. My family is pureblooded, but quite a few Slytherins back in school loved making a big deal out of calling us blood traitors. Blood status means nothing, all right?”

Her emotions burned the back of her throat. She feared if she spoke she would start crying. She hugged him, blinking away the tears against his shirt before he could notice them. There was no way she could explain to him how much his words meant. While Voldemort’s followers in England were dying out or getting caught and sent to Azkaban, American purebloods liked to pretend his capture had never happened. So while the hatred died down in England, the flames continued to grow overseas. “Thanks,” she finally managed to force the word out when she let go of him.

“No problem. Maybe tomorrow we can stuff ourselves with sweets while I read this to you.” With a mischievous grin he held up the book he’d bought. The cover sported a monk dipping a woman while he gazed longingly into her eyes. George had deemed the writing and story too ridiculous to pass up.

“The waiting will kill me. Truly.”

“I’d hate to leave you without something to look forward to.” He ruffled her hair. “Night.”

“Night.” She opened her door, waiting until he disappeared from sight to go inside. Despite Fred’s teasing, the book shop had been a great choice to wind down the night before her feet started hurting from all the dancing.

She kicked her shoes off and then couldn’t help but do a little twirl on her way to the kitchen. Too bad Oliver was gone for the weekend for an away game. She wanted to gush to someone and he’d understand. Plus he hadn’t gotten around to telling her about his last date yet either. She put the kettle on and then did another spin toward the teapot to drop a spoonful of chai tea in.

A knock on the door made her jump a foot high. “Coming!” Thinking George must have forgotten something she ripped the door open and upon spotting the tall red head, she threw herself against him for another hug. Butterfly wings kissed the sides of her stomach. 

He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear. “Wrong twin.”

She jumped backward so fast she stumbled over her own feet. Fred grabbed a hold of her, keeping her from reeling over.

“You’re so easy to get worked up.” Fred grinned in delight. Apparently his drunken confession hadn’t taken away his evil side.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She yanked her arm away.

“Just visiting.”

“At eleven in the evening?”

“Yeah.” He kicked his shoes off and made himself comfortable on the couch, lying down with his feet up on the far armrest.

“You missed George.”

“I know. I watched him leave. Is the kettle on? I’d love some tea.”

She ran her hands through her hair in exasperation. “Please do make yourself at home.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

Fred’s grin returned. “Will do, thanks.”

She shook her head as she headed back to the stove. She pulled out her wand to boil the water with magic. She usually preferred the old-fashioned way because it reminded her of her grandparents, but anything to get Fred out the door faster was worth it. She dumped the water in the teapot and grabbed two mugs and then carried everything into the living room and set them on the coffee table. Instead of sitting in the chair she grabbed the thick cushion beside the coffee table and repositioned it before plopping down onto it. Her vantage let her glare across the coffee table at Fred. “Well?”

He held a hand to his chest with a pout. “I’m here to save you from a dull night reading.”

She rolled her eyes. “That sentence alone tells me you aren’t a big reader.”

“Hey, I read. Mostly nonfiction and research for new products, but I could blow you away with the dry books in my collection.”

“Come out with the truth, Fred. You’re avoiding something.”

His amusement faded. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I doubt you came here to do nothing but make jokes at me. You’re here because you want something.”

He sat up, his cheerful demeanor washed away. He poured himself a mug of tea and sniffed at it before taking a sip. “I went to my first appointment. My next one is scheduled for Tuesday.”

“You mean with the therapist I recommended?”

“Yeah. You’ve been to therapy before, right? I was just wondering…well how long does it take?”

“Depends I guess. You have to stick with it and be dedicated on your side of things. It’s not an overnight thing either, you’ve gotta have patience with it.”

He blew out a large breath. “I’m trying to be patient. I just…I just want to be better.” The words came out quiet. He stared at his mug, the happy mermaid on it a far cry from his sullen mood.

“It’s a process. Give it your all and you’ll make improvements before you know it.”

His forehead wrinkled in thought. “You ever wonder why mermaids always wear seashell bras? Wouldn’t seaweed be easier?”

She snorted into her tea. “Can’t say I have, but I guess seaweed would be more comfortable.”

He nodded and raised his head to look at her. “What did I tell you about the night I was drunk?”

“You really don’t remember? I didn’t think you were that out of it. You weren’t drinking again tonight, were you?” She leaned forward and sniffed the air. All she smelled was the scent of chai mingled with overly sweet perfume clinging to his clothes.

“I’m not an alcoholic. I just tend to drink too much when I’m struggling with something. It’s one of the things I’m working on, to find healthier ways to cope instead of using alcohol and sex.”

Her sip of tea went down the wrong pipe and she coughed. “Didn’t need to know that last bit.”

“No matter what I said that night, please don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t like people knowing. I don’t even like talking to George about my issues. I don’t care if I told you about killing the death eater or not feeling whole without George, keep it to yourself.”

Her gaze softened. “Sounds like you love your brother. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“It’s more than that.” He laid back down, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I love Georgie, but sometimes being a twin feels like a curse. People tend to view us as being exactly the same in more ways than looks. It’s always made me feel like I’m only half a person. And I shouldn’t be telling you any of this because it’s embarrassing and I’ll regret saying anything.” He shook his head. “Does it ever get easier, getting better?”

She took a drink of tea to give herself time to gather her thoughts. “It never feels easy, but you get better at it as you understand yourself more and learn better coping techniques. You feel more capable then and the problems less daunting.”

He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and flung it over himself. “George talks about you as if you’re some sort of sweet innocent angel. I warned him that even sirens lure their prey with beautiful song before drowning them, but I guess you’re okay.”

“Wow, such a big compliment, thanks.” She flexed her hand, fighting the temptation to fling her mug, hot tea and all, at his head.

“Can I crash on your couch tonight? I’m not ready to go home yet.” His eyes drooped as he asked the question. 

She considered saying no, but he was George’s brother. If she was nice to him now then maybe he’d start to lighten up on her. “Fine, but no snooping.”

His eyes closed but his mouth quirked up in smirk. “That makes me want to all the more.”

“Not allowed.” She grabbed her mug and stood. On her way to the bedroom she turned the lights out. She shut her bedroom door just in case he decided to snoop after all.

 

**

“George.” Fred shook him. He had snuck off before Lucy woke up. His determination to tell George energized him. No doubt he’d feel the lack of sleep later at work, but he’d nap during lunch. Something about talking to Lucy had made him feel ready to open up. He’d been so close to spilling everything to her and that would have been too embarrassing. George had always been the one he confided in and he wanted to keep that closeness. That feeling of them against the world.

George groaned and opened his eyes, blinking away the fuzziness of the morning. He’d fallen asleep on his stomach. His pillow was damp with drool. “What’s wrong?” His voice came out thick as though he had a cotton ball in it.

“I need to talk to you.” Fred shifted closer. “I started going to therapy. You know how Tuesday I left for a late lunch? Well it wasn’t for lunch. I have Tuesday appointments if that’s all right. The therapist is popular and didn’t have many spots left. I just…thought I should tell you the truth.” His voice hitched at the end.

“That’s fine.” George reached out with a heavy hand to pat Fred on the shoulder. “Proud of you, Freddy, but later. Ten more minutes.” His arm sagged.

Fred almost let out a laugh of disbelief at George’s reaction. But he was right, now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Fred moved closer, letting his forehead rest against his brother’s shoulder. Within minutes George was snoring lightly again. Fred’s emotions were too wound to let him consider sleeping too and if he was being honest with himself, he liked being this close to his brother. They hadn’t shared a bed since they were kids. At Hogwarts and the Burrow they shared a room. It wasn’t until after they graduated and moved out of the back of the shop a year after opening that Fred got to have his own room. Sharing with only George felt quiet compared to their days back home and Hogwarts. He missed the noise and bustle. He missed having so many friends in close quarters.

Eventually he’d come clean about all his issues to George, but not today. He needed to come to terms with everything better himself. He was the true womanizer between them, but only because fucking a woman was the only time he felt truly seen. It was when he felt like Fred and not Fred and George. Too many people assumed they were exactly the same. Too many girls wanted one of them and didn’t care which. What was it his therapist had said? That he used alcohol and sex to cope. She had a point. 

What was even worse was he feared he couldn’t be whole without George. He was terrified of George moving out to be with someone. Living alone sounded terrifying, lonely, and too quiet. He noticed the way George looked at Lucy. The day of him moving out might not be too far away and Fred wanted to be prepared for it. And if he worked hard enough maybe he could have his own relationship soon, someone who looked at him the way Lucy looked at George. The way she’d spoken to him tonight made him feel seen too.

He’d snooped before leaving. He hadn’t been able to resist. The amount of books stacked around her flat weren’t a surprise. The sex toys under the bathroom sink on the other hand had come as a surprise. George always had a thing for the Ravenclaw type. Claimed the quiet ones always had a secret wild side whereas Fred’s type was simply more open about it. Fred’s type had always been like Angelina: athletic, aggressive, and great at ripping pieces out of his heart.

He wanted something different and that made Lucy dangerous. No use getting a crush on his brother’s girl. His interest in her was solely to protect George he told himself. It wasn’t his fault she proved to be more than he expected. He’d admired the way she held her own against him. Now he could look back and be impressed by the way she stole his wand. 

She’d be good for George, he decided. But why did that make his heart ache and his throat close up? Was he really so terrified of being alone?


	10. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred starts dating again and Lucy hopes it means he'll have more to focus on than tormenting her. Unfortunately his new girlfriend is a whole new level of torture and she refuses to let her get her claws into George.

Lucy poured herself a cup of tea. Her argument with Fred hadn’t been enough to keep her away from the cookies and chai teas at her favorite shop. Listening to Fred talk about his therapy had reminded her how important self-care was, something she’d worked on with her therapist, and so she resumed her weekly visits to the tea shop to curl up with whatever book she had on hand. The cozy visits helped her unwind and the large windows of the shop gave the perfect views to watch the rain from.

Her latest book was one she borrowed from George, a horror set on a space colony. It was full of creepy murders and mysterious clues. Whenever she found herself pausing to take in an intense moment, she wondered if George had done the same. On one page a few drops of what looked to be tea had spilled onto the page. She touched them, wondering what type he’d been drinking. Had he been at the register at the shop getting a chapter in during a lull? Or curled up on the sofa at home?

“A pot of English breakfast and the cinnamon apple donut, please.” 

The voice jerked Lucy from her book just as the waiter left. Fred set a thick book and notebook on the table. When he noticed she was watching him he gave her a cheerful wave. “Have you ever heard of skydiving? It’s a Muggle thing.”

Ah, not again. Leave it to Fred to ruin her peace by invading the tea shop. “I know what skydiving is.” She set her book down and reached for her tea. She took a deep breath to keep herself calm. “Why?”

“I want to do it.”

“Are you crazy?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Think how exciting it would be! Ceece says I need to make sure I continue my identity outside of George, so I figure why not do something bloody awesome? Nothing but muggle devices to keep me alive would be a thrill. Way better than flying a broom.”

“Don’t tell me you are a daredevil doing thrills to feel alive again or some other cliché nonsense. I like to feel alive by you know, staying alive instead of getting hurled into the ground. And who the heck is Ceece? I thought the therapist’s name was Cee Cee.”

Fred gave her a boyish smile. “Her name is Cee Cee, but I like to shorten it to Ceece. I’m not usually a daredevil, but I do like a nice thrill sometimes. It’s also fascinating the risks Muggles will take without magic to save them. If they can do it so can I.”

“Well if you do it don’t invite me along. I don’t want to watch you fall to your death. I wouldn’t be able to look.” Although there were a few times she wouldn’t have minded watching him fall out of a plane and hurtle toward the ground. Maybe she’d have to take back what she said. “Is that one of those dry nonfiction books you mentioned last time?” She peered at the cover. Something about transfigurement charms that were way more complicated than anything she’d read for school.

“Sure is. Product research. Gotta make sure everything is safe and all that.” His face turned entirely too serious for her tastes. It made her stomach flip with worry.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Are you planning to use me as a guinea pig or something?”

“No. It’s just that I started dating again. Ceece is helping me work out rules to keep it healthy. I can’t ask Ginny for help or she might let something slip to Mum. Hermione doesn’t have the vaguest idea how to flirt or seduce. And Luna is sweet but I don’t understand a third of what she says. That leaves you.”

“Leaves me for what?” Her voice rose, squeaking at the end.

“Dating advice. I’m considering a quidditch game as a date since we both like the sport so much. The local team is playing one of our biggest rivals this week. Do you think a quidditch game is okay for a date once you’re past the first two?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we could go out for drinks or dessert after. Give us more time to talk.” 

“I don’t see why not as long as you’re sure she likes quidditch too.”

“She loves it.” He looked down at his notebook. “I’ll let you get back to reading. I need to get through this bad boy.” He patted his book.

“Thanks.” She leaned back with her book back in hand. She watched over the top of it as Fred opened his book and began making notes and charts in his notebook. She’d never imagined she’d see Fred look so studious. It made her wonder if he and George had been good students in school or the bad boys or put off doing homework and studying to have fun. She found it easy to picture Fred pulling George away from homework to go prank someone and George giving up to go with him after a weak protest or two. Fred’s forehead wrinkled as he studied a diagram. His pencil hovered over the notebook. He was almost cute wrapped up in his research. She jerked her gaze back to her book before that line of thought could go any further. Totally normal to think such a thing when his face was identical to George’s, she promised herself.

They stayed that way for almost an hour, Lucy reading and Fred making notes. He even convinced her to trade her second cookie for half of his donut. His suspicion of her seemed to have melted away and she wondered if this was the side of Fred George knew. Seeing him this way made it hard to remember how torn up he’d been in the darkness of his living room in the middle of the night. And then his anxiousness at her place. It made her wonder how much of it he kept hidden away as he put on a more confident façade.

She remembered her days of therapy and the way talking about it to others scared her. Her friends had been supportive but her mother had looked at her in such disappointment, a look that stung more than she cared to admit. And the issues she worked through had clawed at her for weeks until she feared they’d drown her. On the outside she went about business as usual, locking up her fears and insecurities after the attack to hide them from others. She and Fred might not be what she considered to be friends yet, but she wouldn’t shoot him down if he needed to discuss therapy. She knew from experience how a little bit of support could mean everything.

Finally Fred began to pack up.

“Leaving?” She finished off her last bite of donut.

“Yeah, got a hot date in half an hour. Don’t worry though, I won’t let our spot slip to her.” He winked at her and she scowled. 

“Excuse me but this was my spot first.”

“Our spot now.” His devilish smiled returned. He stood and threw his messenger bag over his shoulder. 

“Good luck,” she said, meaning it with her whole heart. If dating kept him nice to her, she hoped the girl fell madly in love with him and kept him out of her business.

His eyes lit up at her words. “Thanks. If it goes well maybe we can do a double date before long. And get home safe, okay?” His voice softened. “There was an attack outside of Hogsmeade today. A lone Death Eater.”

She swallowed. “I will.” Her voice managed to stay even despite the ice ripping through her veins.

He gave her one last nod and then left. She stared toward the tall windows at the front of the shop. How long before nightfall? She checked the clock. About an hour, an hour and a half perhaps. Plenty of time to get home even if she skipped the shortcuts to stay on the busy main roads. Or she could duck into the magical shop nearby and use the floo network to get closer to home and skip most of the roads. Her hand tightened on her teacup. Damn Death Eaters. Why couldn’t they accept defeat and go away? She’d never felt ashamed of having Muggle blood, but with Death Eaters still lurking in the shadows somedays she found herself wishing she was a pureblood.

She finished her tea and shut her book. No need to tempt fate by waiting too long. She’d head back now before the streets began to empty out and she found herself looking over her shoulder every other step. Besides, her table suddenly felt too empty and lonely to stay.

 

*

“We don’t need to join them on the double date,” George said as they waited for their train. They sat side by side on a bench, the only open one they’d managed to find. “Fred will understand why you’d want to avoid Hogsmeade right now. I can join them alone another day if you don’t want to come.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s been a week with no other incidents plus security there has been increased, right?”

“Right. At first I wasn’t even going to ask you to come after what happened at Hogsmeade this month but with the way Fred begged I struggled to say no. He said Ceece…” he paused, his eyes widening as his ears turned pink.

“Oh, his therapist?”

His mouth hung open a moment. “You know about his therapist?”

“Yeah, I’m the one who gave him her card. He said they are working on guidelines for healthy dating or something along those lines.” 

“I’m surprised he told you about that. He tends to be private about personal matters.” He smiled. “He’s starting to trust you then, that’s good.” George kissed her forehead and caressed her hand with his thumb. “Thank you. You must have said something to convince him because I’ve failed every time I tried to bring up the topic of getting therapy. He’s been back more to his optimistic self lately already instead of gloomy. I hope dating will work out for him but…well to be honest I don’t approve of who he’s seeing and I’m afraid she could make things worse.”

Lucy’s attention snapped to him. “Who is it?”

“Clara. You know the one who tried to kill you during the quidditch match?” His nostrils flared. “I should have known she was his type. He likes them aggressive.”

She churned the information over. Clara’s name made her hackles rise, but she didn’t forget how happy Fred had been lately. Her emotions teetered between the two evils of Clara and single Fred. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re with me. And this time she has no bludger to hit at my head.”

He rubbed her shoulder. “If you want to leave at any point just let me know, okay? I already warned Fred Clara is going to have to really impress me to earn my acceptance.”

Their train pulled up and she squeezed his hand back. “Fred wants your support and I’m not letting you go without me.”

By the time they reached The Three Broomsticks, Fred and Clara were already at a table waiting. Fred’s arm was wrapped around the back of her chair. Lucy’s hands fisted when her gaze landed on Clara. The fact that she looked great from her pink lipstick to her perfectly waved hair didn’t stem the anger boiling in the pit of Lucy’s stomach. Fred could have dated anyone else and yet in his usual evil way chose the one woman she didn’t want to be around. The quidditch match soured her too much. She had come more to keep Clara’s hands off George than to support Fred.

Fred spotted them and waved a hand in the air. 

“Here we go,” George said as he marched toward the table. “Let’s hope this isn’t a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Hey!” Fred was so excited he practically bounced out of his seat. “Clara, I’m sure you remember George and Lucy.”

“A pleasure.” Clara smiled at George while ignoring Lucy.

“Want me to go put you in orders for some butterbeers?” Fred asked.

“If you’re buying, sure,” George answered. 

Fred hopped up to put in the order. Clara rested her head on the top of her hands as she watched George. “Glad you were able to join us. Fred’s been talking nonstop about how excited he was for this.”

“Yeah? Glad to be here.” He shot Lucy a look of uncertainty.

“So Clara, how was the Quidditch game today?” Lucy gave her an empty smile of politeness.

“Our team lost when our rival caught the snitch. They won by a measly twenty points.”

“Ouch.”

“They’ve had a good season otherwise, though. This loss shouldn’t be much of a setback.”

Fred reappeared, drinks in hand. The conversation continued, Fred bursting with giddiness. Lucy didn’t miss the way Clara avoided speaking directly to her as much as possible, or the way her gaze tended to stay on Fred and George while avoiding her.

“We’re considering a weekend trip to Paris soon,” Clara told George. “Fred told me about his recent trip. Can you believe I’ve never been there?”

“I haven’t either,” Lucy piped up.

Clara rested an adoring hand on Fred’s arm. “I want a picture of us at the Eiffel Tower. Talk about romantic. And we should wear berets!”

Frustration boiled in Lucy’s stomach.

“Do you want to go sometime?” George asked Lucy.

“I was thinking more of Italy, actually. I haven’t done much exploring outside of England yet. I want to see the vineyards and museums. And don’t forget Ireland.”

“Right, the sheep!” 

Fred’s brow furrowed. “Does Lucy want to pet the sheep?”

“George wants to pet the sheep. I’ll settle for looking at them.”

“You have to pet them too or else what’s the fun?” George protested

Clara’s upper lip curled in disgust. “Why sheep?”

“Because they’re cute and fuzzy,” George said. “And impossible to avoid so why not pet them?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever pet a sheep before,” Fred said.

“Exactly!” George answered.

Fred gave him a serious nod as though George had just said the wisest thing he’d ever heard. “Do you think they’d chase garden gnomes? It’d give mum an easier time of things. Well maybe not if the sheep ate her plants.” 

They exchanged mirrored grins.

“Don’t sheep smell?” Clara wrinkled her nose.

“Dunno,” the twins answered in unison. 

An awkward silence descended on the table. Fred and George’s eyes met for a moment and then they both looked away. Clara sipped at her drink, oblivious to the awkward air.

“Be right back.” Lucy made a beeline for the bathroom, eager for a break from Clara. The large mirror caught her reflection as soon as she stepped into the room and she approached it. At the other sink a teenager applied fresh lipstick, the color similar to the bright color of Clara’s. Lucy turned her gaze back to her own reflection, taking in all the little details she could imagine being better. Should she have worn brighter lipstick instead of lip gloss? Darker eyeliner? Perhaps she should get the drops from George’s store to change her eye color to complement her hair better. She tried to picture an icy, sharper blue to her eyes instead of her muddy ocean blue. 

Compared to Clara she felt too plain. Damn her insecurity. She did her best to shove it down and try to remember how cute she’d felt when she picked out her dress that morning. It’d been a new purchase, one of her first outfits from Britain. She liked how fashionable and sleek it looked. It was the exact sort of thing she hadn’t been stylish enough for during her school years when school uniforms left her with no idea about fashion and trends. The best part about being an adult was dressing however she wanted to, robes be damned. She wasn’t ready to put comfort completely over fashion yet.

She brushed her hair to give herself time to prepare for her return. The thought of being ignored by Clara again made anger fizzle in her chest. For Fred and George she’d keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t promise to do the same after today. She shoved her brush back into her purse and headed out. Her steps slowed once she spotted their table. Her empty chair was occupied. By Emily. And she sat far too close to George for Lucy’s liking. Emily leaned toward George, giggling too loudly at something he’d said. Lucy crept up to the table. With Emily’s back to her, she didn’t notice Lucy’s approach.

“Do you like this place too?” Emily asked as she smiled too sweetly at George. “Clara and I come here all the time.”

George rubbed the back of his neck. “I used to come here all the time during the Hogwarts days, but not so much since.”

“That’s too bad.” Emily’s lips turned down into a pout. She turned to Clara. “Have fun at the game? Heard your team lost.”

“I thought we were going to win until the last minute. Fred and I will have to keep going until we get to see a winning game.”

Fred spotted Lucy and hopped up to grab her a new chair, his giddiness deflated. 

“Are you going to go too, George?” Emily asked.

“Maybe, if Lucy wants to go.” George flung his arm around her shoulders as soon as she sat back down.

Emily’s smile fell. Another awkward silence fell.

“Does anyone else want any snacks?” Fred held up the menu.

Lucy chewed on her bottom lip as Clara and Emily grabbed the menu and began discussing all of their options, neither of them able to make up their minds.

“Maybe we should get some tea too. I’ve been brushing up on my tea leaf reading,” Emily said. “I could tell you if your romantic life is going well.”

Clara’s eyes lit up at that. “Maybe we’ll have to get some tonight.”

“Do you want anything?” George asked Lucy.

“Actually I was hoping to hit up the candy store.”

He checked the clock on the wall above the counter. “Then we should get going so we can eat without spoiling our appetites for dinner later.”

Clara’s head snapped up at his words. “But Emily just got here!” 

“No worries,” George said, latching onto the lifeline Lucy had tossed. “You can keep hanging out here while we do our boring shopping. Maybe we’ll meet up again later.”

Lucy’s bobbed her head with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t want to bore you. Enjoy your drinks.” She grabbed George by the hand and took off for the door. She didn’t let go until they reached the candy store.

“Take it that didn’t go so well,” George said as he opened the door for her.

Fred dating Clara was going to be a problem, Lucy knew that much. And if Clara kept bringing Emily around she would be sorely tempted to try some frowned upon spells. Or maybe turn her into a teapot.

She paused in the doorway. “Emily wants you. You understand that, right?” She fidgeted with the belt to her dress.

George cringed. “I was hoping I was imagining that.” His face softened. “Don’t worry about her. How about we get ourselves all the chocolate we want?” He rested his hand on the small of her back and urged her inside. “Chocolate makes everything better, right?”

By the time they left the shop George carried a bag loaded with sweets. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Fred glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Want to head out before the storm hits?”

“Yeah. Can we go to your place?” Her place felt so dinky compared to his. And like a schoolgirl, being in his personal space made her feel giddy.

“Sure thing. And I meant what I said about Emily, all right? I’ll have a talk with Fred later about Clara.”

“For now I’d like to take all double dates off the table for consideration if you don’t mind. I don’t think she looked at me more than once.”

“Consider it done. I wish Fred would find a different type, someone less bitchy. After seeing her play quidditch can you imagine getting into a fight with her?” He shook his head and rubbed his arm. “I bet she goes for the throat.”

“Probably. I hope you have a great life insurance policy on him.”

“I’ll make that my first priority next week. If he survives long enough, that is.”

Thunder rumbled again, this time closer. “Out of curiosity, if Fred is into the aggressive murdery type, what’s your type?” Her palms sweat and she regretted asking, afraid she wouldn’t like his answer. Maybe Clara was his type too with her perfect hair and willingness to bludger someone in the head to get what she wanted.

“Fred says I’m into the librarian type.” He gave her a sheepish smile.

She snorted in surprise. “Do I sense a sexy librarian fantasy?”

He chuckled. “It would be hard to turn down a sexy librarian telling me I’ve been a naughty boy. It’s a shame I don’t have any overdue library books.” She laughed and he leaned in closer to her. “Hogwarts gave me another fantasy too.”

“Like what?” Her question came out breathy.

“I always thought it’d be hot to do naughty things on a train. I blame the Hogwarts Express. I walked in on a Slytherin girl masturbating once on the way to school while her boyfriend watched. As a young and impressionable horny teenager I couldn’t forget about it. Looking back on it she definitely wanted to be caught judging by the way she’d smiled at me.”

Lucy blushed. “What if you got caught?” She would die of embarrassment. The most she’d done in public places was kiss. 

“The right precautions would prevent that, but the chance is part of the thrill.” He gave her a cheeky smile. 

They reached their platform just as the train pulled in and a light drizzle started. She stuck close to George as he nabbed them an empty compartment. He let her in first and then shut the door behind them, grinning at her. 

He sat the chocolate on the floor and scooted up close to her. “Want to have some fun?” He gave her a smile, his eyes lighting up.

Her heart raced. “Here? Right now?”

“Only if you’re up for it. I locked the door to make sure no one will come in.” 

She chewed on her bottom lip. In the past she would have said no and refused to consider doing something in such a public place. But she liked the idea of pushing herself out of her comfort zone. Of trying to be more carefree instead of too scared all the time and unable to push her limits. If George wanted to do something wild, she could be wild for him. That thought made her grab George by the shirt and yank him in for a kiss. Their tongues danced around each other as the thrill of taking such a risky chance shuddered through her.

His hand slid under her shirt and he grabbed her right breast. He slid his free hand up her dress, gliding his palm up the inside of her thigh. Heat gathered in her middle. He dipped a finger inside her panties. “Mmm, getting wet for me already.” He gave her clit a quick rub before pulling away.

“Don’t stop touching,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“As much as I like hearing you beg, I want to watch you touch yourself. Do that for me and I’ll do whatever you want later.”

Her eyes widened as she considered his request. Now wasn’t the time to back down and be a coward. Not with the wetness pooling between her legs and desire clouding her mind. “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

“You spoil me,” he purred. “Slip your knickers off and turn to face me.” He watched as she followed instructions. When she stepped out of her underwear he slipped them into the pocket of his jacket with a grin as though they were some sort of trophy. Her gaze darted toward the door.

“Don’t worry, no one will see what you’re doing with your back to the door.” He grabbed her and yanked her closer until her legs were around him. She let out a squeal that melted into a giggle. He dipped in for another quick kiss.

Her heart raced as she slid her hand down her body. Behind George trees flew past the window, the glass blurred by large raindrops. The low hum of the train was a soothing melody that distracted her from wondering if anyone would be able to see her from the window. She slid her hand over her folds and then dove in. Her finger reached her clit and she trembled.

“That’s it.” George watched her, his lips parted slightly. The heat in his gaze encouraged her as strong pangs of desire pulsed between her legs. His hands rubbed the outside of her thighs, the warmth of them making her long for him to replace her hand with his. Her tempo increased as her legs squeezed him. She dipped a finger inside and her muscles tightened as she wished it was George inside her. She continued her show, all the while enjoying the way he watched. 

A few minutes later his hands crept toward her center. “Can I touch you again?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy.

He shifted and next thing she knew he was clutching her ass and pulling her upward as he bent over her. He kissed the inside of each of her thighs before trailing his kisses to her center. She covered her mouth to muffle her moan. And then his mouth was on her clit, his tongue darting back and forth across it. Another tremor shook her. 

A minute later she couldn’t take it any longer. “Fuck me, please,” she pleaded. She ached with longing. In her haze of desire she no longer cared they were on a train. All she could think about was the bulge in his pants and how good she knew he’d feel inside her.

“I don’t have a condom on me. Are you all right with me cumming inside you?”

“Yes, go ahead. Just hurry, please.” She couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice. George gently dropped her back down. He pulled himself out from the fly of his pants. Lucy let out a low mewl when she spotted his cock. He grabbed her ass again and pulled her closer. A breath later he sheathed himself fully inside her in one stroke. A low grunt escaped him as Lucy bit down on her hand to keep from crying out. 

“I’m going to cum inside and fill you up.” He began thrusting, keeping a fast tempo as he rushed toward the finish line. His words made her clench around his cock. “I think you like the sounds of that.” The huskiness to his voice gave her goose bumps. 

“Almost there.” She rocked her hips against him. A few thrusts later she burst, her body arching as her climax washed over her. George finished, burying himself to the hilt when he came with a growl. 

He pulled her onto his laps and held her. Then the train slowed to a stop. “I guess we’d better get ourselves in order.”

She reached for her purse. “I have tissues in here.” She handed him one and used another to wipe herself up. “I need my panties back.”

He gave her a devilish grin too reminiscent of Fred. “Do you? I rather like the thought of you going without.”

“George!” 

His grin widened. “We’ll be back to my place within fifteen minutes. You can go that long without your knickers, can’t you? I’ll keep them safe for you.” He patted his pocket where the lump of her panties rested. His gaze heated all over again. “Can you feel my cum inside you? It’s hot filling you up.” He kissed the side of her jaw.

Voices filled the hallway as the other riders left their compartments.

She let out a strangled squeak. “We need to get going.”

He zipped himself up and smoothed her dress down. “There. Right as rain.”

She groaned against his shoulder. “Fine. But later I want to know more about this cum fetish you seem to have.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Let me fulfill it again next time and I’ll fuck you while I wear any suit you want.”

“Deal,” she gasped out.

When she strolled onto the platform she didn’t put another thought to Clara or Emily or whether they’d be eating Fred alive or plotting to steal George away. Those were problems for another day. The high from her climax didn’t let her give more than a passing worry that the wind of the storm would blow her dress up and flash whoever might be looking her way. Instead she cuddled against George’s side as she considered which suit she’d like him to wear. 

Preferably one with the jacket off so she could admire the way he looked in the waistcoat.


	11. A Thorny Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension grows between the brothers as Clara continues to meddle. Lucy wants her gone but isn't prepared for Clara's thorny ideas.

“This is bollocks,” George complained with a theatrical wave of his arm. “I refuse to believe any woman would think a monk’s hair is sexy. Come on, a shaved patch? No one would look at that and think sex.”

“That doesn’t give you permission to stop right before she kisses that smoking hot shaved head.” She popped a grape into her mouth and stretched her legs out over the couch, letting them drape over George’s lap.

“If I had a bald spot would you kiss it?” He gave her puppy eyes.

She snorted. “Only if you were a sexy monk obviously. Brown robes and Gregorian chants? No woman can resist.”

He lifted a hand to his heart. “Oh, so my bald spots will never be worthy then. I’m wounded.”

She poked his arm with her foot. “We’re almost to the end. You can’t stop reading now. Get to the kiss already.” They’d spent the last two weeks working their way through the book. Despite George making Fred promise Emily wasn’t allowed at their place, he’d been spending most of his evenings with Lucy. 

“Give my voice a quick rest. Think of it as dramatic tension leading up to the big moment.” He reached for his cup of tea.

She watched him. He’d undone his tie and both ends hung around his neck like a lazy scarf. His jacket hung on the hook by the door, leaving him in his waistcoat and the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to his forearms. The outfit gave him an air of relaxed sophistication and she was a sucker for it. 

He was irresistibly handsome and she liked life with him in it from his quick wit to his quiet confidence. She wanted to keep him for as long as she could. It was easy to picture living with him. To picture relaxing evenings in reading by a fireplace together. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought and she turned her attention to the grapes to hide her alarm. After her ex she promised herself she’d never live with another man unless she was certain she was in love.

Her heart thumped against her rib cage. Her eyes jumped to George and her stomach somersaulted. She was definitely in love. Hell, she’d learned to bake scones for him and with how hit and miss her baking skills could be she tended to stay away from baking for others. Yet when it came to George she wanted nothing more than to impress and please him. Nights like these with him were just so easy and perfect.

But was it too early to tell him she loved him? And what if she told him and it scared him off? Words like love had been tossed around by her friends so easily during their school days. One of them would meet a boy and a week later already be professing their undying love for the new handsome face in their life. Lucy had never been able to toss the word around as carelessly as they had. She’d rather wait for George to take the lead on the pace of the relationship, but the emotions bubbling in her chest made her want to confess herself. She wanted him to understand how she felt. Wanted to know if he could ever feel the same or if he would smash her heart to pieces instead.

She tossed another grape in her mouth. The emotions whirling through her tightened her throat. The grape caught and she fell into a coughing fit. It took a large gulp of tea to free the grape.

George patted her back “You good?”

“Yeah.” She avoided his gaze, afraid her face would give away her emotions.

A knock on the door kept her from tumbling back into her pit of worries.

“Your other boyfriend?” George waggled his eyebrows. 

Lucy climbed off the couch. “Didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” She opened the door, revealing Oliver.

“I got the position!” Oliver tossed his arms out in celebration. Seeing her confused expression he continued. “I’m now the official keeper. I even get a raise!”

She pulled him into a bear hug. “I knew you could do it.”

George piped up. “Congratulations! Don’t forget about your fans, or are you too famous for us now?”

Oliver laughed. “Too famous to beg for products on the basis of sponsorship? Never.”

“You’d make a great billboard for advertising. I could put the store logo right on the front of your shirt for whenever you do press events.” He held up his hands, framing Oliver’s chest in his sights. “Front and center where the press will get lots of pictures of it.”

Lucy stepped aside to let Oliver come inside. “I feel like I’m in the way here. You sure you don’t want to date Oliver instead, George?”

George ran a hand along his jaw as though considering it. “I don’t know how I’d feel about dating someone better at Quidditch than me.”

“Oh, is that why we’re dating?” Lucy arched an eyebrow at him.

George chuckled. “You aren’t so terrible anymore and it’s endearing the way you try so hard.”

“Whatever you say.” She stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Oliver. “Do you want some tea or snacks?”

“No. Can’t stay. Need to go tell my mum and I know she’s going to want to plan some sort of family dinner to celebrate.”

“Maybe we should have a party. An excuse to drink and get everyone together,” George suggested. “You know how much Harry loves hosting.”

“Yeah, maybe. If I survive the family dinner. My uncles will be begging for free tickets to games.” He cringed. “And my aunts will be begging me to take the kids out on the pitch.”

“All the more reason to drink at a better party!” George clapped him on the back.

Oliver smiled. “God knows I’m going to need a few drinks after dealing with my family. I’ll have a chat with Harry when I get a chance, but I oughta head out.” He eyed up the book sitting on the coffee table and the snacks strewn around it. “Would hate to ruin your wild night in.”

“Too bad. You’ll miss the blood sacrifices and tea cakes,” Lucy teased.

“I’ll catch them next time as long as I’m not the sacrifice.” Oliver gave George one last wave on his way out. As soon as the door shut behind him George rubbed the back of his neck. He cast an anxious look at the clock. “I guess I should go too. Got work in the morning and Clara should be gone by now.” 

She hated the way talking about going home made his shoulders tense. It made her want to punch Clara for putting George in such a position. “You should talk with Fred about her. She can’t be good for him and it’s not fair for her to chase you out of your home.”

“I have and he insists on giving her a chance. If not for Emily maybe they’d be a good match. They’ve been going to Quidditch games together and she went to his dueling club last week. Besides, it’s a good excuse to visit you. Do I get a goodbye hug?” He held out his arms.

“You know you’re always welcome over Clara or no. And you’d better be back this weekend to finish the book.” She stepped into his arms.

“Of course, of course.” He held onto her. Seconds ticked by and George made no movement to let go.

“You’re stalling, aren’t you?”

A sheepish look passed over his face. “It’s just that things have been tense with Fred with this whole Clara issue, but no more wasting time. I need to get home and showered up. Fridays are always busier than other weekdays at the store. If I can catch a break at lunch I want to sketch out a new idea I’ve been working on.”

“A new product?”

He held a finger to his lips and winked. “Top secret for now. Let me know if you hear anything about a party for Oliver. I might be able to come up with a firework or two for the occasion. You’ll go as my date, right?”

“Of course.” She tweaked his nose.

*

Lucy couldn’t help but to gawk at the house in front of her. All the stonework screamed old English to her. The short stone wall covered in ivy added charm without making the place look rundown. A large ornament sporting the Puddlemere United logo of two crossed golden bulrushes on a navy background hung on the door. Not only had Harry come through on hosting a party for Oliver, but he’d decorated for the event.

“Like it?” George asked as he pointed at the ornament. “Ginny found it.”

“It’s perfect. The house is so…English.”

George grabbed the doorknob and hesitated. “Just to warn you Harry tends to go all out when he hosts parties. Don’t tease him about being rich though. He hates it.”

“Got it. My lips are sealed on the topic of money.” She made a zipping motion across her mouth.

George opened the door and ushered her inside first. She couldn’t help but to gawk all over again. A large tapestry sporting the Puddlemere logo hung from the ceiling of the entryway, stopping inches above George’s head. And the living room had been decorated in navy, not to mention the little bar stocked for the party. The place was no mansion but compared to her tiny flat it felt like one. She spotted a Gryffindor scarf hanging by the door. A large fireplace sported old stonework, giving the living room a cozy charm. A small Hogwarts crest hung above the mantelpiece.

“Awe, guys, no one told me we were doing face painting!” George complained. Lucy pulled herself out of her gawking and spotted Harry and Ron mixing drinks. Both of them had painted crossed golden bulrushes on their cheeks.

“It’s not too late,” Ron said. “We still have some paint. It’s on the bathroom sink.”

“Dibs!” George grabbed Lucy’s hand and tugged her off toward the bathroom. Ten minutes later she found herself sporting crossed golden bulrushes on her right cheek. George sported a “Go Oli” on his forehead and golden rings around his eyes to represent goal posts. He looked ridiculous but in an endearing sort of way she decided. Her lacking art skills also made him look like he was wearing broken glasses. He’d done a much better job of the logo on her cheek.

“I should wipe it off and start over.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she surveyed the disaster she’d created. “It looks awful”

“No! It’s prefect as is.” He ducked away from the wet washcloth as she tried to wipe the lumpy right ring off. “All that matters is Oliver enjoying it. The way it looks doesn’t matter.”

His words made her chest feel warm. If she’d known how much she’d like Oliver’s friends she would have moved sooner. Then again maybe it was best she hadn’t or things might not have worked out the way they had with George. If she’d come earlier he would have been dating someone else. And Clara was bad enough without having to deal with the disaster ending to Fred’s relationship with Angela.

When Ginny caught sight of George and burst into giggles he grinned. “Well I couldn’t copy Harry and Ron, could I?” he asked. “That would be such a faux pas and one of us would have to go change.”

“I think all three of you look ridiculous but I’m sure Oliver will love it. I heard his mother made him sit through a three hour family dinner while his father waxed on about how he was doing the Wood family proud. Watching his friends embarrass themselves must be heaven in comparison.”

Lucy grimaced. The story definitely fit Oliver’s father. The Woods loved to highlight their successes, and anything deemed less than, like Lucy and her mother and their muggle blood, got swept under the rug and ignored. With the fame Oliver would get as official Keeper he’d be the shining gem of the family.

Ginny called out to Oliver and pointed at George’s face. Oliver looked up from his conversation with Hemione. He grinned and gave George two thumbs up.

George gave him thumbs up back before turning to Lucy. “Do you want a drink? You haven’t partied properly until you’ve had one.” 

“I wouldn’t mind something fruity sans alcohol.” She added a terrible French accent to the end of her sentence, earning a snicker of amusement from George.

“Your wish is my command, just remember I’m a businessman, not a bartender. I can’t promise you quality in any way, shape, or form.” He grabbed a glass and started a mix she couldn’t keep track of. 

Fred stepped into the room with Clara on his arm and Lucy’s breath stuttered in her chest. She’d hoped Clara wouldn’t come. By the dark look on George’s face she figured he’d done the same. Unlike his brother Fred didn’t wear any face paint nor did he ask for any. Clara inspected the room with a frown. Lucy looked away, hoping to fly under Clara’s notice. Unfortunately Clara picked her way across the room to the bar.

“What is that supposed to be?” Clara asked as she pointed to her eyes, her gaze on George.

“Goal posts,” George answered, the upbeat tone to his voice strained. He cut an orange slice off and shoved it onto the rim of the glass. He handed the concoction over to Lucy. “Drink up.”

“What do you call this?” Lucy sniffed at it.

“No idea but it’s fruity and tasty and that’s what counts, right?” 

“Right.” She tasted the drink while he watched. The strong orange flavor mixed with hints of pineapple and coconut. “Absolutely tropical. I feel like I should be lounging on a beach.” 

“Can you make me one of those?” Clara asked as she took a seat on the stool farthest from Lucy. “And keep it light on the alcohol.”

“Sure.” 

Lucy noticed the way his eyes darkened. He worked in quiet concentration without looking up, Clara watching him the whole time. Lucy’s grip tightened on her glass.

“Game time!” Harry and Ron called out as they herded Oliver into the center of the room. They started a game where Oliver had to block toy quaffles in front of a miniature set of goalposts while blindfolded. Lucy recognized the goal posts. They came from a children’s Quidditch pitch set. Oliver had one just like it when they were kids. Ginny and Luna cheered or booed depending on whether he missed or succeeded. 

“Come on, Oli! You’re playing like you’re blind or something!” Fred heckled. 

“For that you’re next,” Oliver yelled back as he ripped his blindfold off. 

“George, I challenge you.” Fred gave his brother a dramatic point. 

George stepped into the center of the room and bowed. Luna clapped and hooted. They took their places, Fred blindfolded in front of the goal post. George tossed quaffles while Fred blocked, mostly to giggles and booes. Fred windmilled his arms and finally knocked a quaffle to the side.

“You’re doing worse than Oliver,” Ginny called out.

Lucy snuck a look sideways at Clara who sat inspecting her nails, looking completely and utterly bored. Catching her gaze Clara looked up.

“Do you want to trade twins for the weekend?”

Lucy gaped at her, unsure of whether she’d heard right. Not even so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ first. Her opinion of Clara hit rock bottom. “Excuse me?” 

“I heard they used to switch out on their girlfriends back at Hogwarts. One girl said she could never tell which one she was shagging.”

Lucy cleared her throat. “You aren’t actually suggesting we fuck each other’s boyfriends for a weekend, are you?” She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice.

Clara shrugged. “It’d only be for the weekend. Think how exciting it could be. You can’t possibly tell me you’ve never wondered if they shag the same.”

“Actually no, I’ve never thought about it because why would I? I’m happy with George.”

Clara gave her an exasperated dismissive wave. “Don’t be boring. What’s the use in dating a twin if you aren’t going to make the best of it?”

Lucy scrunched up her face. “That’s a really gross way of putting it. You should date Fred because you like him, not so you can fuck his brother.” 

Clara sighed. “I like him just fine. I see no harm in getting the most out of a relationship.”

Lucy stood up. “George is my boyfriend and I’m not about to share him with you.” She picked up her drink and downed the rest in one go before slamming the glass back onto the countertop. The warmth of the alcohol rushed straight to her head followed by a rush of anger. Her hands shook.

Across the room Fred took off his blindfold while George threw his hands up in victory.

“Let me try next!” Luna jumped up and took the blindfold from George.

A cool breeze from the open patio door hit Lucy. She started for it, wanting to get far away from Clara and all the eyes in the room. She swerved toward Fred and grabbed him by the arm.

Fred stumbled as he almost fell backward from her tugging him along. “Um, hi, Lucy. What are you doing?”

She slipped through the door, refusing to let go of him. She continued past the patio toward a wooden bench sitting beneath a tall tree. She shoved Fred onto the bench. His brow knit in frustration.

“Am I going to get an explanation here or are you going to keep pushing me around? I hope you aren’t looking for another duel.”

She took a deep breath and then dove right into the matter. “Clara has gone too far.” She rested her hands on her hips as she glared at him. With him sitting she could see eye-to-eye with him instead of having to look up. The effect bolstered her. “She asked to switch twins for the weekend. Who the fuck does she think she is asking to fuck my boyfriend?”

Fred paled. “She really asked that? She has a way of speaking her mind but that seems a bit much even for her.”

Lucy clenched her hands. “I’m not lying! I don’t appreciate Clara salivating over George.”

He held up his hands to placate her. “I’ll tell her to leave off. Nothing will come of her stupid question. Forget she asked.”

She kicked her foot against the trunk of the tree and let out a grunt. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s a big deal but I do. I want you to keep Clara away from me. I swear if she steals George from me—” Her breath hitched and she couldn’t force the rest of the words out. “I love him.” The confession poured out before she could stop it. “Don’t let her take him from me.” Her shoulders sagged.

Fred’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of surprise. Silence pressed between them. She lowered her eyes, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“What’s going on?” George’s voice carried out over the short expanse of grass between the tree and patio as he approached.

Lucy’s mouth dried.

“I-I-I—” She swallowed. George stepped up beside her and rubbed her arm.

Fred nervously jingled the change in his pocket. “An issue with Clara. I’ll take care of it.”

George scowled. “Lucy, mind giving me a minute in private with my brother?”

“S-sure.” She shot toward the door. Inside she headed straight to the bathroom where she locked the door and sat on the edge of the large tub.

The bathroom alone was the size of her kitchen in her tiny flat. The realization sent a bitter laugh bubbling out of her. Harry came from a family with money. His dead parents helped him more than Lucy’s parents ever helped her. When she told her mother about her move to England, all she would do was beg Lucy to get their family to invite her over. Get them to promise to meet with her one last time.

Harry lost his family and surrounded himself with friends. Lucy’s mother did nothing but dwell on what she didn’t have and drink. And Lucy, well she’d rather be like Harry. But if she lost George would she lose all of Oliver’s other friends too? Her chest ached and she leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. The worry was exhausting. It felt too similar to the days following the meltdown of her last relationship. If all else failed she could always go back to America, but nothing waited for her there. Her friends were long gone. As much as it hurt to admit she didn’t miss her mother. Without George and her other friends England would become as lonely as America had for her.

If not for Fred everything would be perfect. She wouldn’t be sitting in the bathroom too exhausted to cry. Clara wouldn’t be plotting to steal George for herself or Emily. And George…if he really had shared girlfriends with Fred he might be hoping to do it again. Clara’s long legs and smooth skin were far from unattractive. 

A light knock of the door made her jump. Her butt slid across the slippery ceramic of the tub and she clutched at it to keep from falling off.

“Lucy?”

She let out a breath at the sound of George’s voice. She stood and cracked the door open.

“You okay?” George searched her face, his eyes full of concern.

“Yeah. I just…I don’t want to see Clara.” And she wanted to go home before she was too tempted to wring Clara’s neck

“Fred and Clara are leaving.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She won’t be back tonight, I promise.”

She grabbed his arm, opened the door wider, and tugged him into the bathroom. She shut the door behind him for privacy. “Is it true that you and Fred used to share girlfriends?”

His eyes fluttered shut and his lips pressed into a thin line. “There was one girl Fred dated for a bit in school until he realized she couldn’t tell the two of us apart. A few girls we tried to date had that issue. I think it’s why Fred started wearing his hair shorter than mine.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I know there have been all kinds of crazy rumors about us but I’m probably not half as exciting as any of them. Everyone loved to gossip about the crazy twins. We’re not out to steal each other’s girlfriends or do anything to make them uncomfortable.” 

“Clara asked to swap boyfriends for the weekend. You weren’t interested in her, were you?”

George’s eyes bulged. “Of course not!”

She nodded, choosing to believe him. So far he’d given her no reason to believe otherwise and she didn’t want her past to make her a paranoid, suspicious wreck. She’d take her frustration out on Fred, not innocent George. “Ever made out in a bathroom before?”

His eyebrows rose. “No?”

“Want to?” She stuck out her bottom lip. “I need comfort and as my boyfriend it’s your duty.”

The tension in his shoulders and face relaxed. “Very right.” He leaned down and kissed her. She melted against him as he rubbed her back. “Any better?” he asked when they pulled away.

“Yes. But I’d feel even better if you agreed to come back to my place after the party.” Her hand slipped up under his shirt, her fingertips splaying out over his toned stomach. After Clara’s proposition she wanted to claim him. To feel his hands grab her ass as their bodies rocked together. Despite her anger a flame of desire licked through her.

He nuzzled her neck. “Then we should stop this here and save the rest for later.”

“Fine, but know I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Of course. How about another drink to calm you?”

“Hot chocolate with Irish cream this time.”

“Coming right up.” He kissed her nose and she cracked a smile.

Luckily no one stood in the hallway when they opened the bathroom door and slunk out together. They headed back to the bar and she glanced out the tall windows, catching sight of Fred sitting alone on the front step leading to the door. He sat with his head in his hands, as still as a mourning graveyard statue. The pitiful sight washed away the remnants of her anger. He looked so much like George that she couldn’t stop the rising worry for him.

“Should you go sit with him?”

George followed her gaze to his brother. “I think I’m one of the last people he wants to see right now. Leave him be. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

She peered up at him, unable to read his blank expression.

“Let’s get you your drink.”

“Yeah.” She glanced back at the window before following after George. She’d need to find a way to connect to Fred better. Clara was a disaster, but Fred was still George’s brother. No way could she handle the stress of drama constantly trying to weasel into her relationship. She needed a plan. 

There had to be some secret to befriending Fred Weasley and whatever it was she was determined to figure it out before the next Clara came along.


	12. Awkward Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is determined to find out the truth behind Clara's words.

She sipped at her tea, keeping her gaze on the shop’s door. If Fred came she didn’t want to miss him. They had so much to discuss, but after the party she worried he would avoid her and the tea shop. Not that she could blame him. In his shoes she would do the same. And according to George, Fred had run off the day after the party to Hawaii to learn how to surf. He’d only come back last night.

She checked the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes late. She leaned back against the wall and pulled her knees up toward her chest. He probably wasn’t coming, which meant she’d have to wait to have a private word with him. Drat. George seemed out of sorts since the party too. He still smiled and laughed but she kept catching him staring off into space with a troubled look that wrinkled his brow and made the skin beside his eyes crinkle. Every time she caught the troubled look she couldn’t help but to wonder how much Clara had said was true. He needed to know. The curiosity was eating her up inside.

The door opened and she stiffened. Fred stepped through the doorway, uncertainty clear on his face. One hand nervously jingled the change in his pocket. He’d tanned while on his vacation and it made him look out of place amongst all the pasty customers in the shop. He spotted her and awkwardly shifted on his feet. She gave him a hard look and pointed at the cushion across from her. With the look of a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Fred padded on over to her table.

He held up a hand. “Before you say anything I broke up with her. She’s gone for good.” With that said he sat down, having to scoot the cushion back a few inches to fit his long legs in. He plopped down a package she hadn’t noticed him carrying onto the table. The plain brown paper gave no clues as to what was inside.

“What is that?”

“It’s an apology gift and a bribe to not hold anything she said against George. He would never cheat on you and most of the old rumors going around about us were my fault. I know he is worrying about it and I wanted to help make things right. He’s a good guy and I don’t want there to be issues between you because of Clara.” He dropped his gaze. “So, um, sorry.” He pushed the gift across the table to her.

She eyed up the package with suspicion. “Is it some sort of prank? Is something going to jump out at me when I open it?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You really do have a low opinion of me, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You implied it well enough.”

“It’s just that—well, never mind. Can I open it?” A gift from Fred. She tried to imagine what he might give someone. Quidditch gloves? A bottle of whisky?

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “It’s your gift.”

“Then I’m going to open it.” She grabbed it, glancing at him to gauge his reaction one last time before opening the paper. She slid the paperback book out, her mouth opening in surprise. “How did you get this? It doesn’t come out until tomorrow.”

“You were reading the first book last time and said you liked it. I recognized the author’s name when I saw a poster advertising it in the bookstore’s window on my way here. You know that one just down the road.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the store’s general direction. “Plus the covers are similar and have silhouettes of the same two characters. The archer looks like she’s about to blow the swordsman on each cover. Pretty memorable.” He pointed at the kneeling archer and Lucy spotted exactly what he meant. “I flirted with the cashier and talked her into letting me buy an early copy since they already got it in stock for tomorrow. She was a nice lady, old enough to be my mum, but nice.”

“Wow,” she said, unsure of how to feel about the gift. On one hand she’d been looking forward to reading it and hadn’t expected him to pay any attention to her books unlike George. On the other hand his method was…unusual and she was also never going to be able to unsee the accidental blow job. “Thanks.” She let herself smile at him. “I’ll start reading it tonight.”

“I’d also like to add that I think you should tell George about the love thing.”

Her face blazed red. “Maybe.” She traced a finger over the book’s cover before shoving it into her purse. “Was anything Clara said about you two sharing girlfriends true?”

Fred sighed. “If you want to hear those stories this is going to take a bit. Let me get some tea first, yeah?”

She waited for him to put his order in, watching while he considered the menu and ordered. The tan looked good on him. Not too dark as to make his hair look outlandish, but enough to give him a light glow. “Did you actually learn how to surf?” she asked as soon as the waiter walked away.

“Kind of. I’m awful at it but yeah, I can surf now.”

“Did you see any sharks?”

“Only one.”

“It didn’t eat someone, did it?” 

He cracked a smile. “No. In fact I wrestled it myself, saved the whole beach. I’m a hero now.”

She glowered at him. “I get it, stupid question.”

Their waiter returned with his pot of tea. “Okay, you have your tea. Now talk!”

He frowned at her. “Fine, but I’m only going to tell you everything to absolve George and you’d better not tell anyone else. He’s nervous about what Clara said to you. Afraid you’re going to start doubt him and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“I have zero doubts about George.” She poured her own tea. “How much of it is true? Are there any other crazy exes other than Angelina and Clara I need to be aware of?”

“Doubt it. I admit I made some mistakes with Angelina. Let things go on for too long in my desperation to keep her. Most of those rumors about us sharing can be traced back to one of my girlfriends. Leave it to a Slytherin to try to destroy her ex.” He wrinkled his nose. “I was daft to ever think dating a Slytherin was a good idea.”

“Then why did you?” She got comfortable, settling in for his story.

“For starters she was gorgeous. Great sense of humor and wicked at Quidditch. It took six months of flirting with her before she finally paid me any attention. She stumbled into the astronomy tower one night and let me kiss her.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Astronomy tower?”

“Don’t laugh, but I liked looking through the telescopes. I also walked in on way too many other students trying to shag. The tower tended to be the hook up spot at night since teachers couldn’t be bothered to patrol it. Anyway—”

“Wait, wait, hold up. You like astronomy?” Disbelief leaked into her voice. “I know you like Quidditch and dueling, but astronomy?” It was easy to picture him surfing and dueling, but sitting alone beneath the stars didn’t seem like his speed.

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I like sports and fighting doesn’t mean I can’t like other things. I have a telescope I break out every few weeks because star gazing is peaceful. Sometimes when I’m struggling with new products I like to do some thinking with the stars. Something about it helps me clear my mind and relax. Sports help me let off steam, but they aren’t as good for thinking.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’m not all brawn.”

Lucy snorted. “So what you’re saying is you like star gazing so much you hooked up in the astronomy tower?”

Fred nodded. “The problem was after the second time I realized she thought I was George and couldn’t tell us apart. When she realized she’d been fucking the other twin she wasn’t too happy. And then there was a later girlfriend who also couldn’t tell us apart and thought she was dating both of us but it was only me. Lasted all of two months that one. I’ve already decided to take a break after Clara. Work on myself a bit.”

She sipped at her tea, turning over his words. “Sounds like a good idea. All my relationships started when I wasn’t expecting to find someone. I think going in with no expectations helped.”

He poured his tea. “Maybe the same will happen for me but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I want to get my act together for George.”

“Other than the drinking and lack of relationship success, what is there to get together?” It was an innocent question and she didn’t expect the look of surprise that bloomed across Fred’s face. “I mean you have the shop already and that’s a grand success from what George tells me. He couldn’t do it without you. You have hobbies, a club you attend. Lots of friends. Sounds like you just need to quit being so hard on yourself.”

He stared at her, silence yawning between them. She swallowed, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. She pushed a stray hair out of her face. Then she turned her gaze to her biscotti and dipped it into her tea. The feel of his eyes on her made sweat bead on the back of her neck.

“I wonder if that’s what Ceece was trying to get at last week. She said my struggles come from not being seen as an individual due to being a twin. Said I keep unattainable expectations of myself and then punish myself when I can’t reach them.” He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. 

She relaxed. “Makes sense.” 

“I’ve never felt like just Fred. To everyone else it’s always been Fred and George. Whenever I was alone I often got asked where George was and the girls who couldn’t tell us apart didn’t help. Without George I don’t feel like I’m enough and I need to learn to be more comfortable with being myself outside of George.”

This was beginning to get far deeper than Lucy had anticipated and she felt out of her depth. But if he was willing to talk she wouldn’t stop him. “What comes next? Do you have goals set to become comfortable with being Fred? More surfing to do or glowering at books?” She wiggled her hand. “Maybe perfecting your ‘I just rolled out of bed’ hairstyle?”

He chuckled. “That last one is just when I forget to brush my hair. I don’t do it on purpose but I’m flattered you think I’m so stylish. Now it’s my turn to ask a question.” He took a sip of his tea while he watched her, drawing out the tension. “Why is it that you don’t seem to want to tell George about the love thing?”

Heat threatened to creep back up her neck. “Because I’m scared he doesn’t feel the same and then it’ll screw everything up. He’s just so sweet and smart and handsome and well amazing. I don’t want to lose him.” She sighed. Wondering if he could ever feel the same was worse than her fear of confessing. What if she told him and he didn’t feel the same at all?

“I think at the very least he would be flattered. He’s a hopeless romantic and I think hearing how you feel would put him at ease after what’s happened with Clara. He’s mad for you.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah.”

She took a large bite of her biscotti, watching as Fred grabbed his cloth napkin and folded it into a bird. “Why do you know origami?” 

“We learned it as research for one of our products back during our school days.”

“Can you show me how you made that?”

He unfolded the bird without protest. He slid the napkin toward the center of the table and narrated each fold to her as he made it until he’d reformed the bird. She grabbed her own napkin and made an attempt, but it came out looking like a pile of nothing. She huffed. “You win this one.”

He smiled as he pulled his napkin back. “I’m aiming to try something new this week without George as part of my ‘learn to be just Fred’ homework. I already did surfing, so I’m stumped on what to try next.”

“You should try something you normally wouldn’t consider, like gardening or painting or something.” She smoothed out her napkin. “Do you know how to make balloon animals?”

“No idea.”

“Then there you go! I bet the kids at the store would love it.”

He grinned. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“And then when you hit on chicks you can impresses them with your balloon shaping skills.”

He groaned. “Okay that one isn’t such a good idea.”

“You could learn how to make balloon flowers and crowns to give them.”

He cringed at the idea. “Please stop, you are killing me.”

“But then you can call them a pretty princess.”

“Ugh. The more you talk the more convinced I am to pick something else.”

“No! I’ll stop.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile at the thought of him making balloon animals. Something about it seemed so outrageous. “Next time we are here I expect a balloon animal as proof. And you can’t be a smartass and make snakes or I’ll consider your task failed.”

“You’re on. I’ll knock your socks off with my balloon skills. I’ll get so good the circus will wish they could hire me.” He spoke with conviction, more determination shining in his eyes than she’d ever seen before. “But if I win, you have to tell George you love him.”

Stakes sufficiently raised. She frowned, ready to chicken out on the bet.

“Come on, don’t be a coward on me.” He held his hand out for a handshake. “Do we have a bet?”

The determination steeling his jaw was a bit intimidating and she still felt the need to impress him. To prove him wrong about her. “It’s a bet. If I win, the next visit is on you.”

They shook on it and she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see him make balloon animals anymore.

*

She turned the newspaper over to avoid the latest Death Eater sightings. Too much doom and gloom for her tastes. The kitchen timer dinged and she looked up in time to see George pulling on frilly purple oven mitts complete with a leafy floral pattern. “I had no idea you liked purple so much. Should I keep that in mind?” 

George shrugged. “An aunt gave them to us as a housewarming present. I’m convinced she found them unused in her drawer when she was spring cleaning and decided to foist them onto us.” He held one out for her to get a closer look. “They say ‘I be-leaf in you.’” 

“That’s kind of terrible.”

“Right?” He chucked as he reached into the oven and pulled out a cheesecake. He set it on the breakfast bar in front of her. “Ta-da!” 

She sucked in a deep breath of the scent. “Chocolate cheesecake, right?”

“With a strawberry swirl and fresh ones to go on top somewhere in the fridge.” He poked at the top of the cheesecake. The middle had caved in a bit. “Good enough.” Satisfaction dawned over his face. He ripped the oven mitts off. “Let’s eat!”

“Is that Mum’s cheesecake?” Fred asked as he wandered into the kitchen.

“Her recipe, yes.”

“Ah, so that’s why mum was over yesterday. Teaching you how to not make a slab of chocolate concrete. Give me a piece.” Fred grabbed the pie cutter and dug in, ignoring his brother’s flaming face. He shoveled a large forkful into his mouth. His forehead wrinkled while he chewed, then his eyes lit up. “Tastes almost like Mum made it. Way better than that attempt last year when you accidentally used cottage cheese instead of cream cheese.”

George’s blush grew darker. Fred dropped his fork and clapped his brother on the back. “Good job. Save my slice for later for when I get back.”

“Where are you off to?” George asked as he cut Lucy a slice.

“I’ve got a balloon animal class to attend. I’ll catch you two later.” He gave Lucy his devilish smile and her stomach dropped. He rested a hand on George’s shoulder, catching his attention. “And Georgie, love ya.”

Lucy glared at him. George gave his brother a look of confusion. “Thanks, you too.”

“Mwah!” Fred said as he made a show of kissing his brother’s forehead. “Be good, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“That’s an awfully short list,” George grumbled.

“Some of us like to live life on the edge.” Fred gave them a wave as he turned and headed for the front door.

George peered down at the cheesecake. “Forgetting something.” He ran a hand through his hair. A moment later he waved a finger in the air. “Fresh strawberries and whipped cream.” He gathered the ingredients.

“George,” Lucy said as he sliced strawberries. “Thanks for the dessert. I’m glad you’re with me instead of off being seduced by Clara.”

His forehead wrinkled. He sprinkled a handful of strawberries onto her slice. “I’ve been thinking about her and I think you deserve the full truth.”

Her shoulders tensed. Her hands gripped the edge of the countertop. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t tell you the full truth. I was afraid you’d judge me for past mistakes, but if we’re going to be together I don’t want to keep secrets.” He sucked in a breath. “We both fucked Angelina. A threesome, technically. I was single at the time and she wouldn’t let up on the idea. It was supposed to be a one-time thing but she wouldn’t drop it.” He leaned against the breakfast bar, his eye fluttering shut. “It was all completely consensual and I’d rather never talk about it again.” He opened his eyes and took a deeper, shuddering breath. “There you have it. Y deep dark Angelina secret.”

“Oh,” she said, taken by surprise. Fred had left the whole threesome part out.

“I’ll answer any questions you have. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t trust me.”

“Was it strange fucking a girl the same time as Fred?” The question slipped out before she could stop her morbid curiosity.

George considered the question. “There was nothing sexual between the two of us. We’ve been almost attached at the hip since we were born and it takes a lot to phase us. Fred enjoyed it though. He has this weird thing about us being twins and I think getting off on it became a fucked up coping mechanism.” Horror widened his eyes. “Forget I said that. He’d never live it down if he found out you know.”

She grabbed the whipped cream and put a thick layer on her cheesecake. “He said his therapist has him working on the being an individual thing.” She didn’t want to see him drink himself to sleep like her mother tended to do. “I hope it all works out for him. As for the details of Angelina, I’d rather not know or I’ll get insecure.”

He reached for her hand. “I understand but know I never wanted to date her.”

“Well, as long as we are divulging secrets you should know I was a total creep about you. I’d watched you at the pub at least twice when you came for lunch.”

The side of his mouth twitched. “Was I too sexy to ignore?”

“Of course. As for the Angelina thing I’m a bit envious to be honest. I never had a wild time where I got to explore. I was always too shy and a bookworm. Didn’t make me one of the popular girls at school for chasing after. Know I don’t care what you did with whom in the past as long as I don’t need to worry about any cheating in the present.”

“Of course not!”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about except for how many calories I’m about to eat.” She cut off a large bite and dipped it into the pile of whipped cream.

“I hope this doesn’t horrify you too much but I bet there’s at least ten calories in there.”

“And I’m going to pretend there’s only ten.”

He piled whipped cream onto his own slice, a small smile chasing away his tension. “I’m glad we can talk like this. It means a lot to know we can.” His voice carried a wistful note to it. “Have you ever considered trying your hand at product development? Imagine the things we could do together.”

She laughed. “Oh, George, now you’re giving me too much credit. I could test your products and help research but I’m no inventor. I might be able to get you a few interviews with magazines though. I know a lot of journalists. I could bounce some marketing ideas off you too. I don’t think anyone can work in publishing without picking up a few marketing tips.”

“We have been considering working on our public relations more, especially with our recent expansions.”

“Thanks to those expansions you might start hearing from journalists more. Once they see cute twins they’ll be beside themselves trying to get a scoop. Photogenic photos and covers are great for sales.” She leaned back with a groan. “This cheesecake is so good but I can’t eat any more.” She was going to have to take a few extra jogs this week to make up for all the sweets. She wouldn’t let chocolate keep her from looking damn good for George.

George rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Let’s keep being fantastic together. And maybe I can bribe you to look over the ad copy for our next round of new products.”

“Let me take a piece of cheesecake for lunch tomorrow and consider it done.” She wondered if he’d feel the same if she told him she was in love. If Fred really had gone to a class tonight she was going to need to think of a way to break the news to George and soon to keep her end of the bargain. The competitive side of her reared its head around Fred. Strange with how it tended to stay dead unless she was playing Quidditch.

Her eye caught on the newspaper. Despite turning it over the portrait of a Death Eater on the run scowled up at them. “Do you know when Fred’s dueling club meets? I was thinking about going somewhere where I could brush up with some lessons for peace of mind.”

“They meet tomorrow. If he doesn’t stay out all night you can ask him when he gets back. I think the place he goes to does all kinds of lessons. He always shows me what they practiced each week. We upset the neighbors a few times when we dueled outside. The cranky old biddy next door thought we were trying to kill each other.”

She smiled. It was too easy to picture the two of them fighting. “I’ll ask him about it.”

George’s gaze turned toward the window. “He’s been distant after the Clara break up. I’m surprised he even came in here to try the cheesecake. He’s been locked up in his room since returning from his impromptu vacation unless he’s out.”

“I think you should worry less. Let him know you’re here to talk and leave the ball in his court. I get the feeling that making you worry is why he isn’t so talkative. Let him have his space and I bet he’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right.” He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger. “If you’re finished with dessert I got us tickets to that comedy show you wanted to see. It starts in 40 minutes.” He pulled the tickets out of his pockets and she clapped her hands together in excitement.

“You’re the best. Let’s go!” She gave him another kiss for good measure. She’d been avoiding staying out too late thanks to the Death Eaters prowling in the shadows, but she felt safe with George. Taking some dueling and defense classes wouldn’t be a bad idea though. 

She really needed to find another private minute with Fred and hopefully he wouldn’t mind her visiting wherever he went to duel, but something told her he might not be thrilled. She’d consider it part of operation “befriend Fred and prevent another Clara disaster.”


	13. Popping Fred's Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy attends Fred's dueling club, but discovers he isn't enthusiastic to have her invading his spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick thanks to everyone reading! You, reader, are the best.

“Where is Fred? I need to ask about his dueling club.”

George looked up from the register. He jerked a thumb toward the corner of the shop. “Restocking. If he’s not out here he’s in the basement getting more products. Some club for new mums came through and wiped some of the defensive and WonderWitch products out.”

“And the Pygmy Puffs too? I saw the cage was empty.” She loved petting them when she visited the shop. They made her wish her flat didn’t have a no pets policy.

“Yeah. Every month I think the Pygmy Puffs sales are going to slow down and every month proves me wrong. I dread the day when everyone’s finally gotten enough of them and we get stuck with twenty of them.”

“There have been worse, less cuddly things to happen.”

He leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. “I already have a plan for when that day comes. Right now they are pink and purple, but if we can make them blue I think we can get them to appeal more to boys too. A whole new base of customers then!”

“Clever. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?” The longer they were together the more she understood how he’d managed to be so successful with the shop. He might not like to spend as much time socializing as Fred, but his mind never quit. She’d already learned not to ask what he was thinking about or she risked getting some sort of answer about his current research that made no sense to her.

A customer approached and George rang the woman up. Ada waited for the lady to look down while she searched through her purse before blowing George a kiss. His face lit up as he pretended to catch and pocket it. Such a cheesy move, but it made her smile.

Her gaze roved the store until she spotted Fred in the back restocking shelves. After the comedy show the previous night George walked her home, postponing her plan to ask Fred about his club. She didn’t want to wait a week longer. She’d decided it was today or never to motivate herself to get down to the shop before Fred disappeared off to…well wherever he went after work. For all she knew he could be off taking more balloon animal classes or visiting strip clubs. Both seemed equally likely.

She marched across the floor. “I want to go to your dueling club today.” She bounced on her heels as she spoke.

Fred slid a little box into place on a high shelf before turning toward her. “My dueling club?”

“Yeah. I want to take dueling lessons.”

He frowned. “You don’t need to do that at my club. Other places offer lessons too.”

She rolled her eyes. “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed.” He grabbed another armload of boxes and shoved them into their places. “It’s just the club is my place. George doesn’t even go to it. That place is like my own private bubble of a life.”

“But you took Clara!” She threw her hands out in exasperation.

“Not exactly. I never invited her she just kind of showed up on her own one day. Luckily for me she decided she wasn’t a fan.”

“Then tell me where it is and I’ll just show up on my own.”

“But it’s my place.” His brow wrinkled. “You can find your own dueling club.”

“You invaded my tea shop and continue to do so.”

“Fair point.” He shooed her backward several steps then slid the box down with his right foot and got to work on the next set of shelves. “I’d rather you invade my jogging route or my favorite pizza place.”

“Look, I’m not looking to invade your little bubble of Fredness. We don’t even need to talk once we get there. I want beginner lessons and I’m sure you are in the advanced group or whatever you call the guys who just want an excuse to beat on each other. All these sightings of Death Eaters make me nervous. If something happens I just want to be ready, you know? Besides if you go, then wherever it is you go it must be good.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Now I can’t say no without being a total arsehole. How is that fair?”

She met his gaze. “Are you going to be one?” 

He sighed. “Fine, you can come as long as it earns me best brother points with George, but no stealing my jogging route.”

“I can’t make that promise when I don’t even know what your route is.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way. And you have to agree to have a duel with me to make up for the one where you stole my wand. If you don’t agree then I’m not telling you anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll duel you. Just tell me where the place is.”

“Hold out your palm.” He pulled a quill out from behind his ear. One of the store’s products. He scribbled an address on her palm, the quick writing almost unreadable. “You have an hour before the ink disappears and I won’t give you the address a second time. You can ask your questions about lessons at the front desk.” Leave it to him to find a way to try to be difficult. “See you there. No skipping out on our duel allowed!” he said in a sing-song voice as he shoved the quill back behind his ear.

His sudden enthusiasm made her feel like she’d made a mistake. “Um, is that a B or a D?” She waved her hand at him. “And is it an N or an M?” She was glad she wasn’t one of his schoolteachers. Trying to read one of his essays must have been headache inducing.

He shrugged. “That’s up to you to figure out. Gotta work for those lessons.” His mouth twisted into an evil little grin. “Think of it as a treasure hunt.”

*

Lucy watched Fred duel through the window to the room, squinting against the constant flash of colors as he and his opponent cast spells so quickly she couldn’t follow. A blue flash was followed by green, then red and blue. Inside the practice room padding covered every inch of the room. A chain hung by the door to summon an instructor, all of them trained medics. She didn’t know if that fact should make her feel safer or more worried.

And to think she’d felt like she won when she stole his wand. If what she was seeing in front of her was any indication, unless she’d taken him by surprise she never should have been able to get his wand. Her nerves made her hands shake. The confidence she’d felt after completing her beginner class was nowhere to be found. She closed her eyes. No way could she win against Fred. If she wasn’t afraid of how annoying he’d become is she left before he finished his duel, she’d walk out of the club and pretend she’d forgotten her promise.

The door to the dueling room opened and laughter echoed out. Fred appeared, his arm slung over a shorter man. From the way they both grinned and chattered she couldn’t tell which of them had won.

“See you next week,” the man said as he broke away and headed down the hall. 

Lucy pressed herself against the wall as if she could disappear into it.

“And here’s my next victim on my “to defeat” list,” Fred said as his gaze landed on her.

“I think it’s pretty obvious you’ll win so what’s the point?”

“It’s the principle of the matter. You owe me a reduel fair and square. Now come in here and taste defeat.” He disappeared back into the room and she followed, grumbling under her breath the whole way. Walking into the room gave her stomach the same pit of dread grocery shopping sometimes gave her. She’d rather be sitting in the park reading a book or jogging. Not waiting to get her ass handed to her by Fred. She hated the idea of him winning. She took her place and gave her arms and shoulders a quick stretch.

Fred got into position and started a count down. She sent the first spell and he not only blocked it but sent the spell hurdling back at her. The blue light connected with her chest, sending her flying into the padded wall behind her. The padding caved in beneath her before spitting her back out. A dull ache thrummed through her chest, be she was otherwise fine, albeit her temper climbing.

“Are you okay?” Fred asked.

“Fine,” she spat.

“Are you ready to declare defeat yet?”

His smile enraged her and her competiveness flared to life. “No! We’ll go again. Best out of three.”

“If you say so.” He got back into position, his smile too bright for her tastes.

She took a deep breath and climbed back onto her feet and got back into position. The duel started and this time she got all of two spells in, all blocked by Fred, before he used expelliarmus on her, sending her wand flying out of her hand. “Really?” He was too fast for her. If he was anyone else she’d be impressed. She lacked the muscle memory he’d clearly already honed from weekly practice.

The grin on his face was all she needed to know he was having the time of his life. Shit, maybe he had some sort of secret vendetta against her after all. Frustration swirled inside her as she fetched her wand. Had he given Clara the same treatment to drive her away from coming back? There was no hope in her winning, but like hell if she was going to go down easy without giving him a good fight.

This time she was able to deflect his starting expelliarmus. Then she couldn’t resist. She pulled out stupefy but Fred deflected it with practiced ease. Then he pulled out levicorpus and she was too slow to stop it and her panicked mind couldn’t remember the counter jinx. The spell dragged her into the air, flipping her upside down while she hung in the air by her ankle. One hand clung to her wand and the other grabbed the bottom of her shirt to keep from flashing her bra. She shrieked his name.

Fred chuckled and then dropped her to the ground. “You have a lot of practicing to do if you want to give me a challenge.”

She sat up and glared at him. “Then I guess I’m coming back next week.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That eager for more?”

“That’s right,” she said, anger driving her boldness. “I won’t let you scare me away. I’ll keep coming back until I beat you and when I do I’ll have no mercy. I’ll steal your wand and leaving you hanging in the air while you beg me to let you go.” Just imagining it made glee snake through her.

Fred let out a low whistle. “Look at you, pulling your claws out on me. I don’t have much faith in you defeating me, but I can’t wait to watch you try again.” His grin was back again. “If you are done losing, it’s time for me to get out of here.” He pocketed his wand and rolled his shoulders to stretch them out. “I have a date with some research waiting for me at home. If I’m really lucky George may have made a breakthrough already.” He started for the door, whistling a cheer tune as he went.

“Wait.” Lucy scrambled onto her feet. Fred waited with one hand on the doorknob, his head tilted toward her. “Can you walk me home? There was a recent sighting not far away.” Her gaze turned to her feet in embarrassment. She hated how the Death Eaters left her on edge. Left her scared. But that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? To quit being scared. To wrench more control back to her life. She’d made so many strides by coming to England, which meant there was no better time to keep her momentum going by getting rid of her fear. She wanted to go out and meet George places without that tickle of fear stalking her

“Sure. I have something to show you anyway.”

“What do you need to show me? The next jinx you are going to use against me?”

He left, ignoring her sarcasm and giving her no choice but to follow. As they passed by the front desk he said goodbye to the bored woman painting her nails. Once outside he reached into his pocket and took out a balloon. As they walked he inflated it into a long tube. Then he pulled out a second and got to work. She watched in fascination as he twisted them together into some sort of animal she couldn’t identify. Or make it was a dick. Yep, it definitely looked like a dick. “For you.” 

“Oh, thanks for the, uh, animal.”

He chuckled. “It’s a sword.”

“I thought you were learning to make animals, not weapons.”

“I did. I’ll show you the best dog you’ve ever seen next time, so you’d better start figuring out how to tell George about the love thing.” He pulled out more balloons and got to work on making himself an identical sword.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for that jab yesterday.”

He quit puffing to grab the next balloon and gave her an expression of mock innocence. “He’s my brother and I’m allowed to tell him I love him whenever I want to. You being nervous and angry is simply extra motivation.”

“Wow, you really do sound like an older brother right now.”

“As an older brother it is my solemn duty to embarrass. Except not Ginny because she’d kick me in the bollocks. Now Ron on the other hand, he was always easy to embarrass. George can give just as good.”

“I might kick you in the bollocks yet.”

“Doubtful. You are easy to rile up. I know I’m doing a good job when you either squint at me or your cheeks puff up like a squirrel’s.” Fred finished his sword and held it up in triumph. “I shall name it Excalibur.” He pointed it at Lucy. “I challenge you to a duel of swords.” He shifted his stance, holding one arm out while he kept his sword trained on her.

“Duel happy today, aren’t you?” She stepped back to make room to aim her own sword at him. 

“This way you might actually stand a chance.”

“Well in that case I accept. Prepare to be vanquished!” She waved her sword about in a way she hoped looked menacing. 

His face lit up in delight. “You will never defeat me. Once I’m done with you I’ll make off with your fair, erm, lad. George and I will feast and play cards to celebrate my victory.”

“Never!” She jabbed her sword at him and he blocked. He shoved her sword to the side and jabbed at her middle. She dodged. They continued for several minutes, both of them dodging and blocking so well neither could get a killing blow in. Then Fred swiped at her side and the handle of his balloon popped, both of them jumping at the unexpected noise. “Aha! I have you now.” She stabbed at his chest, the balloon’s tip bouncing off with a squeak.

Fred clutched at the spot where she’d jabbed him and stumbled toward a low stone wall surrounding a garden in his best imitation of dying. He collapsed onto the wall and leaned back against the bush. “Come closer,” he croaked, holding out a hand toward her. She obliged. “Tell George—” He added a dramatic wheeze for effect. “Tell George I was always the handsome one but he gave it a good try.” 

“Ugh, insulting my boyfriend? I won’t stand for it.” She sliced across his neck and he went limp. She grinned. Satisfaction slid through her at the sight of Fred’s defeat. “I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to regret killing my boyfriend’s brother but…nope I’m not feeling anything other than sweet victory.”

He opened his eyes and gave her a look of offense. “How could you not regret killing such a handsome devil like me? You only won because of a sword malfunction. A most undeserved victory if you ask me.” He stood and brushed himself down and plucked a stray leaf from the bush out of his hair. “You better have enjoyed the only duel you’ll ever win against me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that. Give me time and I might take you by surprise. I already signed up for next week’s lesson.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re going back to the club?”

“Duh. As awful as being in the same building as you is I don’t know of anywhere else that gives good lessons. And not going back means never being able to beat you.”

“You weren’t supposed to take it as a true challenge! I expected you to give up in frustration.”

She clucked her tongue at him. “You are only afraid of me beating you. Don’t worry I’ll only brag a lot when I win.”

He scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it and George owes me a favor for letting his girlfriend into the dueling club.”

“Do you even take classes there?”

“No. A few of us took all the offerings and meet the same time every week to duel to keep in practice.” They resumed walking and he pulled yet more balloons out of his pocket. How many did he have stuffed in there? A whole bag? Lucy wondered how many he could blow up before his lungs got too tired. 

By the time they reached her front door he was hard at work putting the finishing touches on his yellow animal. “There,” he said as he presented it to her. “A balloon dog. The only balloon animal I know how to make.”

“Cute. I’ll name him Blue.”

Fred’s brow crinkled. “Are you color blind by any chance? The dog is yellow.” The question came out free of sarcasm and sounding completely innocent.

“I know its yellow, and Blue is upset with how critical you are being of her. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Besides, Yellow would be a terrible name.”

His look told her he wasn’t convinced. “Or you’re color blind and embarrassed to admit it. There’s a doctor at St. Mungo’s that can fix color blindness.”

She made a note of his annoyance at the color mix up, filing it away in case it ever came in handy. “Blue and I think you for walking us home. I would apologize for killing you but that would be a lie.”

“No problem. And I’m impervious to your weak attempts at keeping me dead so all is forgiven. I’ll tell George you send all your love his way.” He gave her an impish smile.

“Stop bringing that up.” She groaned as she unlocked her door.

“Not until you tell him.”

“I will! On my own terms.”

“Well you’d better do it soon. He has a thing for the pastries and fritters from the bakery down the street from our shop. The baker is a total babe too. If you don’t confess he might decide to run away with his true love instead.”

She gaped at him. “Are you trying to tell me you think George would leave me for a baker?”

“Yes, but the pastries, not the baker. He doesn’t have eyes for anything else when he’s eating one of his favorites.”

She shook her head. “I can’t say I’m afraid he will leave me for a pastry. See you next week at the club.”

His smile disappeared. “You’re really going back, aren’t you?”

She patted his cheek and then stepped inside. “Tell George I said he’s the handsome one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can pretend for George’s sake that he’s the handsome one.” Fred shoved his hands in his pockets and headed away. 

Before she bothered turning any lights on she crept toward the living room window to watch him go. At the corner of the street in the darkness of a broken streetlight Fred apparated away. She stood there a moment, staring out the window. Was this the Fred George knew? She slid onto the sofa. She was beginning to think there was more to Fred opening up to her for George’s sake. Maybe deep down he was lonely or at least wanted someone who understood. She knew from experience she could spend her time with others and still feel lonely. Therapy wasn’t easy and he’d already admitted to his weaknesses and mistakes. She admired that. If she was slowly learning the real Fred then he wasn’t so bad. So why couldn’t women like Clara be content with him?

As an only child she couldn’t fathom being a twin. She needed to find out more about the whole twin thing. Understand it better. She stood and her back creaked in protest. Ugh, dueling hurt more than expected.


	14. The Big L Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy finally tells George she loves him, but what does that mean for Fred?

“What do you think of the catalog?” George spread out some of the spare photos across his coffee table. He and Fred only had a mockup of the catalog so far while they worked on finalizing it. “The plan is to roll out to the stores that stock our products before the holidays start later in the year. Give us a chance to get orders from more customers and convince the stores to stock more products.”

“Hmm, it’s good.” She turned the page to the WonderWitch product spread. The photographer had gone for an elegant spread and a black, white, and pink color scheme. “I like the way this looks. The pink gives it enough color for the right details to pop without being too busy. I think the classy look is perfect.”

“Do you have much experience with this sort of thing because you sound like you understand this better than me.” He grabbed his wand a moment later the teapot came soaring through the air. “Marketing is getting more complicated when it comes to places outside of our store.”

“I help commission cover art for some of my projects and I spent a stint in marketing when I first got into publishing. Had to work my way up to editor. How many stores are you working with now?”

“Only half a dozen spread out over America and Europe. America is only selling our defensive products as is our partner in Germany. We’d like to keep expanding but it’s a bit overwhelming to figure out where to start. Everywhere we’ve signed contracts with approached us first. With how well our WonderWitch products do we’ve been thinking about starting with them. I was hoping to get your take on possible stores since you have more experience with makeup and beauty stores than Fred and I combined.”

She tapped the spread in front of her. “You should contact the big beauty chains. Send them something like this with a few samples.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me, but would they take two guys seriously?”

“If you can give them a product that will sell they will stock you. My favorite store contracts with a bunch of brands and they each have their own little spot in the store with their logo at the top. If you could get into a place like that it’d get you in front of tons of new makeup customers. There’s a branch about twenty minutes from my place.”

George poured them each a cup of tea. “Can you take me to it and show me around? I’ll have to run it by Fred but I think it’s worth pursuing. We’ve been considering hiring someone to help with marketing and this sort of thing but we keep putting it off. We’ve been doing so well we don’t know if the investment is worth it or if we’ll just overextend ourselves.”

“I’ll tour your around the place and I’ll look into how to contact them. You might be able to start by getting your products into the local stores and then going from there to avoid a huge increase in production all at once.” She perked up, her earlier work worries fading away as she got sucked into her new idea. “Imagine the way your showcase would look. You could use this color scheme or bring in more colors from the shop logo as the backdrop. And you’d need a short marketing line to get attention. Everyone goes for luxury and pampering, if we could add some humor to yours it would stand out.” She put the catalog down and peered at the extra photos of the WonderWitch products. “You’ve already worked with a designer on the packaging, right?”

“Yeah. We even had boxes designed for mail orders and if we need anything else we can let her know. She’s brilliant at design. She did up some of our bottles.”

“Sounds like you have everything you need, just need to find a way in.” She tapped her quill against her chin. She believed the same about herself once, but editing had taken her passion and drained the well empty. Moving hadn’t fixed that and now that she’d settled into her relationship with George and he wasn’t such a shiny new distraction, those worries bubbled back to the surface. Same problems, different country. “How did you know this store is what you wanted to do? How did you know it was right for you?”

George leaned back as he considered the question. “I can barely remember how it all started it was so long ago. Our family never had much money, so we couldn’t buy the Zonko products we wanted, and somehow Fred got the idea to make them instead and inevitably dragged me into it. Things went from there. Much to our mother’s annoyance. She wanted us to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad did, but we never considered it. Once we set our hearts on our own products, it felt like there was no going back. Nothing else felt like a real possibility. We got a plan and spent years working toward it. I never bothered considering if it was right or not.”

“You never doubted it even once?”

He shook his head. “No, but you have to understand Fred to know why. Whenever Fred gets an idea he can convince the socks off anyone. And he once did that literally, by the way. He made the shop sound like a guaranteed thing as long as we put the work in. Oliver tried to talk us into aiming for a Quidditch league with him, but Fred wouldn’t hear of it, not when we had our shop to work on. Of course back then Oliver had no idea of what he meant because we didn’t have the shop yet, but that didn’t matter to Fred. And now that we have it I can’t imagine doing anything else. The shop has the best parts of both of us in it and it’s given us financial security for the first time in our lives.”

“I envy you a bit. The certainty of everything.”

“Ah, but you love editing, don’t you?”

She stirred honey into her tea, taking time to gather her thoughts. “I do but reading isn’t the same anymore. I struggle to turn off my mind, to relax and enjoy a story. I miss the way it was before I worked in publishing. And this week there was talk of a restructuring and possible positions and hours being cut.” She swallowed. As the newest one in the office her spot would be the first to go if it happened. “I’ve started wondering if it’s time to make a career change.” Maybe put some of her old marketing experience to use. If she wanted to stay in England with George, she needed to get herself into a comfortable position.

“You’ll figure it out.” He kissed her cheek. “I have complete faith in you. If you need something quick there’s a few places in Diagon Alley hiring. You can use me as a reference, just don’t tell them our relationship.” He winked.

She giggled. “I hope it doesn’t come to scrambling for something. I considered jumping back into the marketing side of things. There’s a business lecture on marketing that’s open to the public at the local college this week. I think I’m going to go to it. I knew it would be risky coming here, but I admit I thought the job would last a lot longer. Of course I could be worrying for nothing but I’d like to have a backup plan. Being an adult sucks sometimes.” She hated the way her life seemed to enjoy veering off track. During her last year of school she’d felt so sure about what she wanted to do. She loved books, but working in publishing had tarnished them in a way she hadn’t expected. Maybe doing what you loved for a living wasn’t sound advice after all. Oliver’s dream had come true. George was content with his shop and Fred, well his drunken confession made her wonder if he was the only one who could understand how she felt, like an aimless failure. George’s words painted a different picture than Fred’s, so what had changed for Fred? Had his breakup put him through a similar crisis?

“That it does. But you’ll stay in England, won’t you?” A note of worry hung in his voice.

“Yes, but to stay long-term I need to prove I have a job to stay. I came over through my company.”

“Worst case scenario I’ll hire you part time and vouch for you.”

“That’s sweet.” She cuddled closer and leaned her head against his chest. “This is why I love you.” The word slipped out. Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d said. This wasn’t how she’d hoped to tell him. She’d thought she’d ask him to go to the park or somewhere more romantic before working up the courage. She wanted it to be somewhere more memorable. 

For a minute silence stretched between them, long enough for her heart to race and her palms to sweat. This was where he informed her he didn’t feel the same, she decided. He would turn her down and she’d go cry to Oliver and if he was smart he wouldn’t remind her of his early warning about the Weasley Twins. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could disappear through the floor. 

George’s lips pressed against her forehead and she opened her eyes. “You too,” he said, his words coming out breathless. “Love you too.” He grabbed her hand with an eager smile. Then his lips were on hers and before she knew it somehow her shirt had come off and he had a hand inside her bra.

“Bedroom,” she said. She would die of embarrassment if Fred came home and walked in on them. She’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Knowing him he’d tell his friends and then everyone would find out she’d been caught red handed on the couch. The last thing she needed was for Oliver to find out about any of the intimacies of her love life.

“Right. Wraps your legs around me.”

She did and then he picked her up in one swift motion. She clung to him as he carried her to his bedroom, enjoying the way it felt to nestled against him. She nuzzled his neck and wiggled against the bulge poking her bottom. Maybe her slip up wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He lowered her onto a pile of pillows stacked on his bed. He had so many she didn’t know how he managed to sleep with them all. She had to admit though, they sometimes came in handy during sex, like when he used one to prop her bottom up to get a certain angle that made her toes curl. George plopped down beside her and trailed kisses form her jaw to her stomach.

“I hope you don’t have somewhere you need to be.” He gave her stomach another kiss, his hair gliding over her skin and making her jerk. He grinned at her.

“The only place I need to be is here.”

“Good. Let’s get these off then.” He unbuttoned her jeans and helped her shimmy out of them. She grabbed his shirt and slipped it off, letting her hands trail over his skin as she lifted the shirt. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and she shivered. His hair tickled her thighs as he kissed his way to her core. His tongue flicked out, brushing over her clit. She let out a moan, her right handing twisting the ends of a pillowcase. Her hips bucked up as his tongue continued to explore in little circles. Just as the pleasure began to build and she felt like she was getting close, his head popped up.

“Can’t have you finishing yet.” When she gave him a pout he grinned and tweaked her nose. “We’re just getting started.” He moved into position, lifting her legs up on either side of him as he slid forward. His tip slid against her folds, teasing her. In desperation she lifted her hips higher. “Hey, Luce?” he said as he caught her gaze. “Love you.” He pushed inside and she arched into him with a cry of pleasure.

*

Fred stopped to catch his breath when he reached the little pond at the park. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his thighs as his breaths came in huffs. Too much slacking in his jogging routine lately and he was beginning to feel it. This was the week he’d s sworn to get back on track. He’d even started marking the days he jogged on his calendar as a reminder. Maybe his therapist’s reminder to not drown himself in work was starting to sink in. Until he returned to the monthly Quidditch games and started going back to his dueling club he hadn’t realized how important they were too him, how much better he felt afterwards, but after Angelina…well he’d thrown himself into work and let everything else dropped to the wayside. Only alcohol had numbed his heartache.

Before Angelina, being single had never bothered him, but she’d made all his worst fears come true. Alone he would never be good enough when held up alongside George. Everyone always compared them and without George he was just the troublemaker with no one to reel him in. The difficult one. As a child he never meant to be difficult, but his trouble making had been a way to stand out. To make people look at him, to really see him as more than just one of the twins. But even that didn’t last long once he made the mistake of roping George in. 

George had a knack for finding the issues he couldn’t see in products. He could fix the faulty ones and turn them into something brilliant. During the Angelina aftermath too much of keeping the store afloat had fallen onto George’s shoulders. Poor George. What would his life be like without Fred? George always claimed he couldn’t imagine doing anything else other than the shop but he had it in him to do any number of things. Maybe he’d have gone pro at Quidditch and gotten married already without Fred’s playboy reputation haunting him. He’d have been a better student at school without Fred tugging him into all his schemes. He might have even gone into the Ministry like Mum wanted. 

Trying to explain the whole thing was always difficult. Mum never understand. No one but George really. It’d taken three sessions for his therapist to start getting the hang of it. And Lucy, well she almost understood. That had surprised him, but she was tuned into George who’d had his own issues with the twin thing. Romantically mostly thanks to Fred. He blew out a breath. Damn the guilt that ate away at him whenever he thought about it.

He dipped a hand into the pond and wiped the water across his forehead to get rid of the sweat threatening to trickle into his eyes. Two ducks paddled closer. One quacked at him. He held up his empty hands and the ducks continued on down the pond’s shore to the kids at the other end just as their mother pulled out a slice of bread from her purse. The ducks were spoiled from all the food thrown their way. He’d learned that the hard way when he’d brought a snack with him a few weeks ago and stopped to sit by the pond and eat. One of the damn ducks sat itself at his feet and wouldn’t shut up until he threw it a chunk. Protein bars probably weren’t even good for ducks. He’d heard you weren’t supposed to give them bread either but that never stopped anyone. Just like George’s warnings hadn’t been enough to keep him from drinking.

Angelina ripped the first chunk of his heart out the day she asked for a threesome with George. Nothing was the same after that. The girl he used to play Quidditch with and wrestle down in the snow had changed and he could no longer ignore the bright red warning signs slapping him in the face. The very things she used to moan about her mother harping on about she now agreed with. Like landing a man with a respectable job, not someone who worked in a prank store. She’d suddenly started talking about having children too and once commented George would make a great dad. From there their plans to travel Europe together fell apart. One domino after another toppled. She’d made him feel like an immature twat to not want to discuss kids right out of school. He might want them later. Or never. And neither of those options had satisfied her. The easy romance they shared in school died, cannibalized by the decisions and stresses of adulthood.

At first he tried to put it all down to her struggling after the Battle of Hogwarts, they were all suffering in their own ways, but his hanging on only drew the pain out. “You’d be nothing without George,” had been her last words to him after the break up. She’d known right where to stab and twist the dagger for maximum effect. 

The little boy on the other side of the pond shrieked and ran as a duck flew at him. The boy’s dad chuckled while his mother panicked and stepped between him and the duck. A wand peeked out from her sleeve and a second later the duck went tumbling back into the water. It was the sort of scene Angelina had started to crave with every fiber of her being, the happy family out for the day. His heart throbbed. The pain got duller every month but he couldn’t wait for it to disappear altogether when thinking about her.

He turned and started back toward home, keeping his pace steady. In truth when Lucy told him he had almost everything together part he’d taken it as a compliment. It was proof of how far he’d come in the last six months. No longer did he shutter himself up in the basement working on products every night and drink until he blacked out on weekends. What felt overwhelming at first happened so gradually he’d barely noticed. Thank god for George stepping in and hiding the alcohol when he did. Not having it in easy reach had kept him from drinking so much when he didn’t want to leave the basement. The week following the breakup he spent four days in the shop and George had to bring him a change of clothes. The shop had felt like his sanctuary and more than once he’d woken up on the shop floor after a night of heavy drinking out.

These days he felt more like himself. Unfortunately everything about Clara had been a mistake and it felt like a lot more than a “bump on the road to recovery” as his therapist called it. He’d been too eager for someone to see only him again. Despite everything he felt no bitterness toward George. It wasn’t his fault they were twins and everyone compared them and mixed them up all the time. Wanted them both. George was right about his type. He needed to find a new type. One that wouldn’t aggressively stomp all over his heart.

Overheard clouds rolled in and he hoped the rain would hold off long enough for him to get home. George had mentioned Lucy would be visiting. Had she told him about her feelings yet? Thinking about it made his chest feel hollow. He couldn’t forget the dreamy expression George gave him the night before when he said, “I think she might be the one.” It’d gotten him thinking about the future. Specifically one where George moved out to live with Lucy and left him all alone. He didn’t like the idea of living alone. It sounded crushingly lonely. Home would feel too quiet after the shop. He still had no idea of what he wanted yet outside of the shop, but Ceece always assured him that was okay. He’d figure it out as he went. 

However that didn’t keep him from feeling like George was about to leave him behind. They’d always lived together. Learning to have his own room had been difficult enough because he was so used to sleeping near George. Too many nights he’d tossed and turned until he sneaked into George’s room to sleep on the floor. George’s breathing had lulled him right to sleep. Sure they’d still have the shop together. It wasn’t like he would suddenly never see George, yet he couldn’t shake the fear of a future living alone. He’d be like Percy. That weasel lived alone in a little flat and while George had made up with Percy, Fred still struggled to forgive him for his past decisions. For breaking away from the family to try to ladder climb. Percy’s place always felt haunted almost. Too sparse and plain to feel lived in.

A rain drop splashed onto his nose and he sped up. He ignored the ache in his lungs as his street came into view. The rain picked up, the chill of it refreshing compared to the sweat soaking the top of his shirt. The distant boom of thunder was less inviting. At Hogwarts he had loved watching storms roll in. The way the sky darkened above the lake and made the air smell like rain. It carried an eerie beauty to it. He missed Hogwarts sometimes. Spent too many years there not to. He couldn’t imagine having gone to a different school like Lucy, but he knew little about the American schools of magic. Hogwarts was in his family’s blood. Too much a part of him to imagine going anywhere else.

He pushed his legs to go faster and escape the coming rain. Rays of sunshine poked through gaps in the dark clouds and then were just as quickly swallowed up. By the time he reached the front door his lungs felt ready to burst again. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath. Then he headed toward his bedroom to grab his change of clothes. He’d take a nice relaxing hot shower then watch the rain out the window with a hot cup of tea. It’d been a good run. He deserved to have a few minutes to himself to unwind.

“Harder. Mmmm.”

He froze at the sound of Lucy’s voice. Across the hall from his door George’s hung cracked, just enough for him to hear the bed creak and Lucy moan. The sounds of a woman being shagged were enough to send his blood rushing south.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

He didn’t need to look down to know he stood at attention. He’d put a break to his one-night stands. It’d been too long since he last got lucky. He wouldn’t mind an outlet. He imagined stepping into the room and joining them, having a threesome like they had with Angelina. The most fucked up part of that situation had been the fact that he enjoyed it. Pushing for a threesome had driven him and George apart a bit, but actually doing it, he’d never felt closer to his brother afterward. Nothing about it had been sexual toward George, but he hadn’t told his therapist about it either. He doubted pleasuring a woman together was the sort of healthy bonding experience she’d recommend. She’d probably give him a lecture on how he saw George as a mirror of himself or some other psychological mumbo jumbo. Plus he’d gotten his therapist working through the fact that he felt girls always wanted both of them and would never be satisfied with him alone. Turning around to say he wanted threesomes with his brother made no sense. But it’d been a sort of adult bonding experience akin to the way they used to share a bed as kids. He hated himself for feeling that way. Hated the way he couldn’t seem to make up his mind on what he wanted.

Lucy let out a gasping moan as the squeaking picked up speed. Fred darted into his room for his clothes and then fumbled his way to the bathroom. He didn’t want to give himself time to make a stupid decision he’d regret later. Peeking in was too tempting. Lucy wasn’t his usual type, but she was pretty. And she listened to him in a way Clara never tried to and Angelina hadn’t toward the end of everything. She acted like she truly wanted to understand, even if only for George’s sake. He couldn’t think of anyone else who’d put in the effort to do that outside of Angelina at the start of everything. 

Lucy’s gasps and moans chased him into the bathroom. Once he closed the door sweet silence greeted him. Then the sky opened up and rain tapped at the frosted window. He turned the water on to warm up and made quick work of his clothes, the shower drowning out any noises that might make it past the door. All the while his body made no attempt to calm down. He stepped into the shower and leaned against the front wall, letting the water cascade over him.

Even to the end Angelina had always been a good shag. He loved the way she let him tie her up or fuck her against a tree. Her noises had been as good as Lucy’s too. His cock twitched at the memories. He tore his mind away from her, moving instead to the cute blonde he’d taken doggy style during his last one-night stand. She’d had a great ass. His hand traveled down until it wrapped around his hard on. Then he began to pump himself, remembering how good it’d felt when he’d entered her and the way she’d squeezed her legs around him when she came. He leaned more of his weight against the wall to keep his legs steady as the memory played out. Somewhere along the lines the blonde in his memory made the same noises as Lucy. He tightened his grip and his breathing grew more ragged. So close. A few more pumps and he came, spurting against the wall. The sight of his cum dripping down the shower wall made his shame rear its head.

Thinking of his brother’s girlfriend while jacking off. What kind of sick bastard had he become?

*

“Look, this lotion and soap are made locally.” Lucy grabbed the sample bar of soap sitting out and sniffed it. It smelled like vanilla and something else she couldn’t pinpoint. She set the soap down, her nose twitching as she tried to hold the growing sneeze back. The sneeze escaped, head jerking forward from the force. The picture of the goat at the back of the display let out a bleat.

George chuckled. “Think I’ll pass on trying the soap if that’s the effect it has.”

This late in the evening few shoppers roamed the store. A group of teen girls crowded around a display of lingerie enchanted to change colors. Lucy turned to Fred but he was distracted by the loud group of girls. He’d been distracted the whole trip. She’d gone to the dueling club the day before to take another class, but his sulky expression told her now wasn’t the time to tease him about going on different days as him. She turned her attention back to Fred and the model posing in a picture at the back of the next display.

“See how they all have similar photos and styling? Doing something different would get your products noticed quicker. They’d stand out and draw shoppers’ eyes. But you still need to make it look stylish to fit in well enough.” George’s head bobbed in agreement as she spoke.

“Seeing this place in person makes it easier to visualize. I like the idea of starting locally to see if our products land and then going wider. What do you think, Fred?” George turned to his brother.

Fred glanced between them and Lucy got the feeling he hadn’t heard any of it. “You’ve always had good instincts when it comes to business, whatever you think is best.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “Busy daydreaming, Freddy? Let’s go see if the manager is around. I want to talk to them.”

“I’ll keep looking while you do that.” Lucy made her way from display to display, analyzing everything from product packaging to the colors and arrangement. In bookstores shoppers tended to go for the books with the covers facing out. Anything else was too easy to overlook because the spines didn’t stand out enough. Some publishers paid to get their books front and center, cover out, to boost sales. Likewise dated covers tended to get passed over. She applied what she knew to the beauty products, the way her gaze skimmed the products with outdated packaging to land on something splashier. Her thoughts kicked into gear as she considered how the WonderWitch products would look next to these brands. It was the same sort of excitement she used to get when books she worked on launched. 

She peered over a round tower displaying lipsticks in every color of the rainbow. At the register Fred and George chatted with a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a beauty magazine. Fred had come back to himself. He gestured animatedly at a nearby display, the local soap. He was in business mode now, they both were.

Tomorrow she planned to attend the marketing lecture. It was bound to be dreadfully boring but full of information she needed to brush up on. Maybe she could learn something that would help George. Fred and George both shook the woman’s hand before heading in Lucy’s direction. They whispered back and forth conspiratorially, their steps slow.

“We’re going to try to get an appointment to discuss our products,” George told her. His gaze slipped to Fred before landing back on her. “We were wondering if we could get you to come with us for it.”

“Me?” She gaped at him. “Why me?”

“Well look at the manager,” Fred said as he waved a hand in the woman’s direction. “She’s wearing a bunch of products she bought here. We need someone to show the products off in everyday use. Have a woman vouch for them.”

George cut in. “I’m prepared to bribe you with dinner of your choice. And dessert.”

She hated to say no and disappoint him. “We’ll see.” The prospect of seeing inside their business dealings excited her, but fear also made her heart stutter. She didn’t want to ruin a big deal for them.

“I’m going to meet with our main distributer to discuss increasing production,” George said. “We’ll run the numbers and see what the owners of the shop have to say.”

“Do all the boring things before the exciting things,” Fred added.

George looked out the large window. “You two wanna go get something to eat? I think we’ve earned a nice dinner. There’s a good restaurant just down the road.”

Fred rubbed his arm. “You two go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” George frowned. “You’re more than welcomed to join.

“I’m going to go meet up with some friends.” Fred shoved his hand into his pockets and kept his gaze down. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Fred slinked out of the store, his shoulders hunched.

“What’s up with him today?”

George shrugged. “I think Clara might still be getting to him. Mum also wrangled us into a family dinner tomorrow. Fred isn’t a fan of trying to make nice with one of our brothers.”

“Ah, family drama. Always a bucket of fun.”

He opened the door for her and they started down the street. Across the road dance music pumped out of a club.

“Fred asked me a question last night that got me thinking, do you think you’d ever want to move in together?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Of course. I mean, if you were okay with it.”

He grabbed her hand and entwined his fingers through hers. “I’d very much like it if you stayed in England. Eventually I want to move into a nicer place. When the time comes maybe it’s a step we can take together.”

“I hope so.” She squeezed his hand, feeling so happy she could burst. It wasn’t until they reached the restaurant that Fred came to mind. If she moved in with George, would Fred be okay with her splitting them up?


	15. Death's Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy offers to fill in for George at the shop, but things turn deadly in Diagon Alley.

“Have a good day!” She waved at the existing customer, the bell chiming as the door opened. Exhaustion washed over her from the store’s fast pace. Her face ached from putting on her customer service smile and her shoes pinched the back of her feet. How Fred and George did it day after day she didn’t know, but she did know her face couldn’t take another minute of smiling.

“I think that’s about it for the rush. It’ll calm down to a trickle and our part-timer will handle the evening shift. You can leave whenever you want,” Fred said as he appeared with a box of fresh stock. Some of the product shelves had been ravaged thanks to their popularity. Almost as an afterthought he added, “Thanks for the help.” 

With one of their employees on vacation for the week and George off meeting with suppliers to work on an expansion plan, Fred had been left alone with the shop. She’d volunteered to help George and get her mind off her own work woes. Hearing about George’s work had been one thing, but experiencing it another. More people than she had expected stopped in during their lunch breaks, creating an endless stream of visitors for over an hour. The store had been noisy chaos compared to the quiet settling over it. 

“Is it always that busy during lunch?”

“Fridays and weekends are the busiest. Mondays slow to a trickle in comparison.”

“I’ll remember next time I volunteer to make it a Monday.” In truth she’d enjoyed helping, even if it left her feet and mouth sore. Her own work had started slowing to a drought and between that and updating her resume, it left her with too much time on her hands to worry. Soon she’d be left with no choice but to job hunt again to pay the bills. “I was hoping I’d catch George to hear how the meeting went. He’s due to be back soon, right?”

Fred shrugged as he set the box down on the counter and opened it up. “It could be an hour yet. Sometimes the meetings hit unexpected snags.”

Another hour alone with Fred without customers keeping them busy…anything could go wrong. “Should I at least stay to give you a lunch break?”

Fred shrugged again, not looking up as he moved to a nearby shelf to restock. “I should be able to get a late lunch in between customers. If you want to stay you can, but it’s not needed. I can take it from here.”

He went about his work as if she wasn’t there. The awkwardness was too much. She gathered up her things and took another swig from her water bottle. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet either except for a late morning snack before coming. The Leaky Cauldron sounded good. A big lunch to make up for the lack of a proper breakfast. 

When she looked up she caught Fred watching her, his hands paused in his work. His forehead wrinkled.

“What? Is there something on my face?” She rubbed at her mouth, her face heating in embarrassment at the thought of customers seeing something in her teeth. It’d be just like him to wait for all the customers to see before letting her know.

“Would you ever want to move in with George?” he asked, his gaze boring into her. His hands rested on a flap of the box, worrying it back and forth.

A strange question, she thought. “Um, I suppose so in time, but we haven’t been together long enough for that just yet.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Not any time soon then?”

“My lease still has a few more months on it. Maybe when it’s close to being up I’d want to have that discussion with George.” She could renew for another six months if her landlord allowed it. Or a year. “Why are you asking? Has George said something?” Hope bloomed in her chest. The thought of moving in with George made the future feel brighter. 

He stared down into the box. “Just wondering how much time I have left.”

Her suspicion melted away into confusion. “What?”

“I’ve never lived alone before.” He grabbed little bottles full of a purple bubbling liquid and lined up a neat row of them. “I know it’s only a matter of time before George wants to settle down.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I need to get used to the idea of living alone.”

“Oh.” She shoved shifted her weight. “It’s not so bad. No one else to complain about anything. And you can walk around in your underwear all you like.”

He raised a brow at her and her face burned again. “Not that I do that. Forget I said anything.”

“I’ll be careful about showing up unannounced.” His devilish smirk creeped onto his face. 

She headed for the door, eager to escape. If she stayed any longer embarrassment would kill her. She could never seem to get things right with Fred. He made her too nervous. Got under her skin. Things were never as easy as they were with George. “I’m going to go get lunch. Let George know I want to know how things went, please.” The words came out fast. She took his silence as confirmation and rushed out the door.

Clouds covered the sun and threatened rain. She couldn’t remember if she’d brought her umbrella. It had to be in her bag somewhere, but she forgot it too often. It hadn’t rained back home nearly as often and rarely had she kept an umbrella on hand. She peered down the road, hoping she might spot George in the crowd. He’d already set up a meeting with the beauty store for him and Fred to pitch their products. If something went wrong with a supplier and delayed their ability to expand, he’d be crushed.

The crowd in the street had thinned as everyone returned back to work. A few mothers with strollers roamed Diagon Alley in groups, like roving packs ready to run over anyone too distracted to see them coming. Water glinted on the sidewalk, leftover from an earlier rain shower. Her foot slid into a puddle much deeper than she’d expected and a curse escaped her. Water soaked through into her soak. She yanked her foot out. Water dripped from the bottom of her shoe and her toes squished against the wet fabric inside.

A figure ran past her, their shoulders brushing. She swayed and lowered her foot to regain her balance, her toes hitting the edge of the puddle again. She groaned. With the sun hiding behind clouds, a child was already creeping into her foot. Her shoe squished with every movement.

A scream splintered the air. The group of mothers took off running as fast as the strollers let them. They disappeared into a store, the door closing and windows darkening behind them. Another scream, this one shrill and long. Her heart skipped a beat. People ran in all directions in one big chaotic panic. She stepped forward then hesitated as yet another person ran past her. 

She backed up a step and searched for a clear path. A mother ran out from a narrow alley beside her. She held her young son’s hand, half dragging him along as his short legs struggled to keep up. A flash of blinding light and the woman stumbled, her wand skittering across the road. Her son fell, letting out a wail when his knee smacked against the road. A dark figure emerged behind them. Lucy’s breath left her in a whoosh when she saw the dark robe and death eater’s mask. Her grip tightened on her wand as her recent duel lessons ricocheted about her mind.

The Death Eater raised his wand toward the boy. She didn’t need time to think. The instincts honed by her dueling practice took over. “Stupefy.” The Death Eater froze, his wand tumbling from his frozen hand. His body followed soon after. The mother grabbed her son, picking him up as he continued sniffling. Then she grabbed her wand and ran. Lucy stared at the frozen Death Eater, shock flowing through her and keeping her arm raised. Another screamed echoed through Diagon Alley. She should run, she thought, but to where? The way the screams echoed all around her, making it impossible to pinpoint their direction. Terror surrounded her on all sides. Death Eaters could be anywhere. The store. Fred would know what to do with all his dueling experience.

Scarlet light streaked toward her. “Protego.” The shield blocked the expelliarmus spell. A second Death Eater moved toward her from across the street. Her heart leapt into her throat. She backed away, her grip tightening on her wand. The figure continued toward her, matching every step she took. “Stupefy.” This time she couldn’t hear herself over her pulse roaring in her ears.

The Death Eater blocked her spell with ease and sent a new one rocketing toward her. This time the Protego charm wasn’t strong enough to protect her. Blinding hot pain ripped through her as the Crucio curse took hold. Her eyes watered and black dots danced in front of her eyes. It felt as if her body would burn to pieces from the inside out. She wailed until her throat burned and her voice went hoarse.

The pain cut off and she gasped a breath of fresh air. She tried to raise her wand, but the spasming muscles kept her arm from cooperating.

“Stupefy!” another voice cried.

The Death Eater toppled over and her own legs gave out. Strong arms caught her. “Lucy, can you hear me?” The relief surging through her made her want to weep. She turned to face George, only for a fresh wave of panic to wash over her.

“My eyes.” Her voice came out hoarse. She grabbed his shoulders, the pain of the bright sun causing her to squint at his blurry image. A few dots still danced in her vision.

“Can you see?”

“A little.” Her whole body trembled. Her lungs ached. Pins and needles continued to prick at her insides. 

He wrapped a hand around hers. “Hold onto me. I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” He kept his voice low.

She nodded and gave his hand a tight squeeze that sent a spasm through her arm. Her muscles felt weak as he helped lift her back to her feet.

“Follow me. If I squeeze your hand it means stop, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We need to stay quiet.” He spoke close enough she could feel his breath on her face. “I’d rather spot a Death Eater before it spots me. I don’t want to take an obvious exit out of here in case more are waiting for us. We are going to head for a shop connected to the floo system and I’ll get you to St. Mungo’s. This way.” The confidence in his voice bolstered her.

They moved in slow steps down the alleyway. The bleariness of her vision made it hard to tell where they were heading. She didn’t know Diagon Alley well enough yet, and the fading pain kept her mind preoccupied. George’s presence chased away enough fear to keep her calm, but every little noise sent a jolt through her heart. He squeezed her hand and she froze.

“I need to scout out ahead to make sure the street is safe to cross.” Something shifted and she turned toward the noise, watching the brown blobs. “Hide behind these crates and stay quiet. No one will be able to see you.”

She crawled behind the crates, keeping her side pressed against the wall.

He crouched down. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t come out unless you hear me whisper your name.”

“Be careful.” Her hoarse voice cracked. She yearned for a glass of water to soothe her throat. “You’d better come back.”

“I will.” Emotion thickened his voice.

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now duck your head and stay quiet.” He shifted the crates around to hide her. She leaned her head against her bent knees, straining to listen as his quiet footsteps faded away. Silence descended on Diagon Alley. The eeriness of it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Above her a bird cawed as it flew from the roof. 

Footsteps shuffled down the alleyway. She pressed her hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. The steps couldn’t be George’s; he didn’t drag his feet so much when he walked. The figure ambled on past, its loud breathing harsh and scratchy. She opened her eyes and caught sight of a black robe through a crack between crates. The Death Eater walked with an awkward gait, one foot dragging along the ground.

A few steps past the crates, the figure paused. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth. The figure turned around. A ray of sun peeked into the alley, reflecting off the flame pattern on the figure’s bronze mask. The eyes were black holes, the deep darkness of them making the Death Eater feel inhuman, a monster. These followers had proven to be more resilient than their lord. They continued to spread terror while Voldemort rotted away in Azkaban. His capture did nothing but make Britain let out a breath and put its guard down, making them more susceptible to this plague of Death Eaters.

Her hand sweated around her wand. The tight space left her little room to move her arm and wand around. If another crucio curse came her way, she was nothing more than a sitting duck. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. The Death Eater’s robes swished at his feet. His head cocked to the side. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” 

She pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could disappear through it. The white spell blinded her. Stars erupted in front of her eyes and she turned her head away. Several heartbeats passed. She opened one eye to peer through the crack. The Death Eater stood frozen, his wand at the ready. A whoosh of breath left her as the tension drained from her body.

“Lucy,” George hissed. He moved a crate aside and offered her a hand. After helping her up he plucked the wand from the statue. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You?” She tightened her grip on his hand. In the dimness of the alley she couldn’t tell if he bore any wounds.

“I’m fine.” His voice came out steady, reassuring. He led her toward the end of the alley and past the toppled Death Eater in quick strides. “We need to cross the street. When I say three, run as fast as you can, okay?”

“Yes.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, worried her jelly legs would betray her. Her head felt lighter by the minute. Whatever the crucio curse did to her, it couldn’t have been good. She pictured her insides bleeding with each step. Her increasing sight gave her no relief. The distance to the other side of the street had never looked so far. She wished couldn’t see the stretch of empty expanse. Or all the places a Death Eater could be hiding.

“One…”

She reached for his hand and readied herself. In her mind she imagined them running across the street only to have Death Eaters appear on both sides. They’d be fish in a barrel for the taking then. She adjusted her grip on her wand. If they needed to fight, she wouldn’t make it easy on the Death Eaters. She’d do everything she could to protect herself and George, bad vision be damned.

“Two…”

The other recent attacks had been made by small groups, but this was Diagon Alley. They’d be mad to come without larger numbers. A loud bang somewhere behind them made her muscles tense. There had to be more of them out there and there was no telling how many. 

“Three.”

She forced her legs to run, to cross the gap in front of her. Her legs and lungs burned at the effort, but she still couldn’t get her legs to pump faster. George kept a steady pace beside her. What felt like too many steps later they shot through the shop door, George throwing it shut behind them. She squinted through the dim light of the shop. Dust motes swirled in the thin streams of sunlight. Dark shelves full of cauldrons and glass jars filled with a myriad of ingredients cluttered the floor. He pulled her toward the end of a set of shelves where they were hidden from the rest of the shop. They stood in silence with nothing but the sound of their haggard breathing filling the shop. His breath ghosted across the top of her head. She bunched up his shirt in her free hand.

After a minute that felt closer to an hour, she broke the silence. “Should we use lumos?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone seeing light inside and finding out we’re here. I used to do my school shopping here. I know my way around.” He pointed toward the back of the shop. “We need to get to the fireplace. You can go by floo to St. Mungo’s. I need to go to the Ministry to warn them in case no one else has.”

She stepped forward and a wave of dizziness descended on her. She teetered backward a step before catching herself. He slid an arm under her right shoulder.

“Sorry to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Sympathy filled his voice. He helped her across the shop. The dim lighting soothed her eyes as the world came into crisper focus. A jar of what looked like preserved chicken’s feet sat on the shelf next to her head. Gross. The jar brought back memories of potions class and of the boys who threw the grosser ingredients at the girls. The teacher had never been amused.

“Here we are.” He helped her up to the cold fireplace and handed her floo powder. “Go straight to St. Mungo’s.”

She bobbed her head, her throat dry and swollen. She could almost make out the finer features of him now, but with his back to the minimal light coming in from the windows, the front of him was dark. It didn’t matter. She’d finally noticed the cut of his hair. A painful wheeze left her.

Fred. Not George. Not once had she thought Fred would be the one to save her. She’d been quick to put all her faith into George instead. A large part of her wanted him to be her shining knight if she couldn’t save herself. Shame filled her.

“Why?” the word came out a croak. “Why come for me?” Movement off to his left stole her attention as a black mass appeared from a hidden doorway. A bone-white hand lifted a wand. “Expelliarmus!” she called. The wand flew from the Death Eater’s hand, but it didn’t go far. The wand bounced off the top of the nearest shelf. The Death Eater crashed into the shelf in his pursuit, toppling it. Glass jars smashed against the ground, sending broken glass and ingredients skittering in every direction. 

“Go!” Fred pushed her into the fireplace.

“St. Mungos.” One of the shop’s windows exploded and she screamed Fred’s name. Then the floo network whisked her away, taking her warning with her.


End file.
